


Enchanted

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Enchantment, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Control, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Slavery, Slow Burn, after a fashion, bed sharing, extensive discussions of consent, other world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-04-19 16:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 33
Words: 66,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14241162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After touching a dubious object in the Black Emporium, Fenris and Anders are thrown into another world, one where mages suffer even worse than they do in the Kirkwall they know. By inserting runed implants known as 'rocks' in the bodies of mages, the Chantry is able to control them and sell them as slaves.Realising the danger Anders is in, Fenris races to save him, but arrives too late. Fenris buys Anders in order to free him, but doesn't realise he has already been 'rocked'. They must now struggle both to free Anders from the enchantment and find a way back to their own world.[Note: Fenris will not be taking advantage of Anders while he is enslaved, and consent will be discussed, but Anders will be having sex, and as consent is not possible in this situation the non-con warning has been added. Read the tags and read at your own discretion. Slavery will not be romanticised or presented as good in any way - the tag is a warning.  Don't like; don't read.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of an earlier version of this fic. I hadn't properly thought through what I wanted to do with it before or how to present it. For me the interest is the mind control element, but I accept that the use of slavery as a plot point invites problematic themes and assumptions.
> 
> With this in mind I have made the decision that Anders and Fenris will not be having sex while he's enslaved and I have also added the Dead Dove; Do Not Eat tag. This tag explicitly acknowledges that there will be problematic elements and those elements are not endorsements by the author, nor are they intended to represent anything in the real world. Slavery is wrong, and real world slavery is not like this. If you choose to read you should not be surprised by the content. Comment moderation has been enabled.

The Black Emporium had a musty smell that was almost as off-putting as the withered, corpse-like figure of Xenon, presiding over the shop from its centre. Anders tried to ignore it as he browsed over boxes of ingredients he couldn’t usually afford. A generous donation to the clinic had given him means he wouldn’t usually aspire to and he was hoping some of the more exotic materials might help with a new disease that was spreading in Darktown. 

Xenon cleared his throat, an unpleasant gurgling sound. “Gagh, who let in the elf? Are you going to _buy_ something this time, or merely _glare_?” 

Curious, Anders turned round to see Fenris emerging from the tunnel that led to the Emporium’s entrance. The elf ignored Xenon, but he stopped when he recognised Anders. 

“Mage,” he said. 

“ _Elf_ ,” Anders replied. 

“I am just here to-” 

“I don’t care.” Anders turned back to the dried herbs he had been perusing. 

Fenris snorted and Anders heard him walking towards the back of the shop. Towards the enchanted weaponry. Big surprise there. Didn’t seem to mind magic so much when it was engraved on an implausibly large sword. 

They managed to successfully ignore one another for several minutes until Fenris’s voice startled Anders as he dithered over whether something called ‘Royal elfroot’ was actually an improvement on the standard variety or a scam the Antiquarian was running. 

“What’s this?” came the elf’s rich voice from behind him.

Anders glanced up to see Fenris pointing at something that looked a bit like a sundial, but small enough to hold in one’s palm, black, and covered in unfamiliar runes. 

“The Estorekt,” Xenon pronounced. “I bought it from an Avvar trader, if you would believe? How he got so far north I’ll never know, but he had so many wonderful trinkets.” 

“What does it do?” Anders surprised himself by asking. There was something about the shimmering lines of its runes… 

“‘Transports you to another world’, dear fellow,” the Antiquarian sighed. “The urchin has fiddled with it; it doesn’t work. It might make for an _attractive_ paperweight.” 

Anders had drifted over to look at the object. He wanted to take a closer look at its runes. He’d learnt so little about the Avvar in the Circle, which of course made everything about them seem tantalising. 

Just as Anders reached to grasp the Estorekt, Fenris laid a lyrium lined finger on the point of the angled mast in its middle, and the world went white.

 

***

 

Fenris awoke in his bedroom in Hightown, his head thumping. 

Had it been a dream? 

He shifted and felt the restrictive press of leather. He was still dressed in his armour. 

He did not recall going to bed in his armour. Not that that had not happened before, but despite his pounding head, his mouth was not filled with the dead-stoat taste of left-over wine. 

He recalled the firm press of the blunt blade of the Estorekt beneath his finger, the thrill that had radiated out from it combined with the painful lighting of his lyrium brands. 

No, he did not think this was a dream. 

What had Xenon said the object was meant to do? “Transport you to another world,” Fenris answered his own thought. 

That did not sound good. 

Not good at all. 

And yet looking around his bedroom, very little seemed different. A glance beside the bed showed only one wine bottle he had neglected to dispose of, when he was sure there had been two. But apart from that, it was as dusty and unkempt as he was used to. Small objects here and there looked to be not quite where he had left them. There was a statuette on the dresser he didn’t recognise. Enough was off to tell him that things were not as they should be, and yet this was definitely his room. 

It was not how he _had_ left it. But it was entirely how he _might_ have. 

He recalled that the mage had touched the object at just the same time he had. If he _was_ in a different world, would Anders be here too? 

Reluctantly, he supposed he should try to find out. The Estorekt was nowhere in sight. If this was not his world, he had no idea how to possibly get back. But perhaps the mage might.

 

***

 

Anders woke sprawled on the floor in Darktown. An elf with a notched ear and too few teeth was staring at him. 

“Mage!” the elf exclaimed. “Gerroutta ‘ere, mage! Don’t need no Templars ‘ere,” the woman screeched at him from her mangled mouth. 

His head thumped with knife-like pain, but he struggled to a sitting position… and the world tilted around him. 

This was not his clinic. But it was exactly where his clinic should be. 

The elven woman was huddled where he had kept his rickety writing desk. All about, where there should be cots, his stocks, his neat piles of bandages, his patients and his assistant… there were huddled figures on a dirty floor mottled by mystery stains. 

He sat where his own bed should be, on what appeared to be a pile of refuse. 

Everything was gone. All his things. The little alcove where he kept his mother’s pillow, and the few other trinkets and keepsakes he hadn’t sold, was now home to a snoring human with greasy hair. 

“It’s like I was never here,” he murmured. And then he recalled what Xenon had said about the object he and Fenris had foolishly touched. “‘Transports you to another world.’ Great.” 

“Gerrout!” the woman yelled at him. “Git!” 

“Yes, OK, I’m going,” he said, pulling himself to his feet, trying not to stagger at the wave of dizziness. Travelling between worlds was apparently not the smoothest process. 

He should try to find the elf. Maybe he had the Esorekt. Anders certainly didn’t seem to. 

If Anders had been returned to where his clinic should be, perhaps Fenris would be at his mansion in Hightown. If there even was a Hightown. Or a mansion. He grimaced. If Fenris had had anything like his own luck, there was a fair chance the mansion was inhabited by someone else. That could make things very difficult for the former-slave. 

Maker – what if in this world Fenris was still a slave? It didn’t bare thinking about. The elf was hateful and ignorant but Anders wouldn’t wish that on him. 

Anders staggered his way towards the Lowtown lift. It sank into place just as he arrived… and was full of Templars, of course. 

One of them laughed, looking at him. “Well, that was easy.” Anders didn’t even have time to call in his mana for a mind blast before he was hit with a smite, and the world went black again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders wakes up after being taken by Templars and begins to understand his situation.
> 
> Fenris notices that mages seem to be treated very differently here than they are in Kirkwall. He fears what might have become of Anders and races to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to do that post-one-chapter-a-week thing, but I'm going to be away from the Internet most of tomorrow. Please enjoy early Saturday.

Anders’ awareness returned to him gradually, muffled voices swimming around him against a bright light he refused to open his eyes to. 

“Can you believe he wasn’t rocked?” 

“And so _old_. How do you think he survived that long?” 

A snort. “You saw the marks on his back. He’s definitely been in _someone’s_ care. Maybe they found another way to control him.” 

“Perhaps pleasure was the wrong choice. Broken slaves are no good for those kinds of drives. I do wish they would talk to _us_ before these decisions are made.” 

“I know, but look at that _face…_ ” A finger ran down the line of his chin and he flinched. 

“Oh, he’s awake! Good.” Another finger peeled back one of his eyelids and he groaned. “Come on, get up. We need to get you cleaned and dressed.” 

Despite the pain and confusion and the stiffness in his muscles, Anders found himself obeying.

 

***

 

It didn’t take long for Fenris to realise at least part of what was different in this world. 

At first he was shocked to see so many mages out in the open. Anders and Merrill were rare (and somewhat foolish, he thought) in carrying their staves so openly, but neither was stupid enough to dress in the robes Circle mages preferred. Yet the Hightown market had at least a dozen robed men and women openly walking about. 

He tried not to stare as he passed through. It would not do to draw attention to himself as out of place. 

Heading into Lowtown, he noticed some differences. There were robed mages here, too, but few of them carried staves and most of them wore a collar of one kind or another. He even saw a few who seemed to be held on some kind of leash.

A man holding the leads of two such mages caught him staring and grinned broadly. “Looking for a little help around the house? They’re clean, obedient, and a tenth of Chantry price.”

Fenris stared in horror. 

“This is just a sampling, friend. Take a closer look. If you like what you see, come to the docks at noon; we got a whole ship just in.”

He meant it. Fenris wasn’t misreading the situation. The man was trying to sell him slaves.

The two mages, a human man and an elven woman, had heads bowed and didn’t look up as the man talked. He’d never seen such submissiveness in a mage. Had he misread something? Maybe people other than mages wore such robes here. 

But he had not imagined the staves in Hightown. 

It was too much to think about. He backed away, turned, and practically ran from the market. 

He had to get to Darktown. He had to get out of here. Anders must know a way. 

As he neared the docks he noticed a large sign. His reading was still very poor, but these words he knew:

MAGE SALE TODAY

12 NOON

He stopped and stared. This couldn’t be real. It wasn’t simply that they were selling people, some of whom were mages; it was specifically mages that were for sale. Like some disquieting inversion of Tevinter. 

A dark, traitorous part of his mind enjoyed a moment of thrill, imagining mages enslaved. Had he not sometimes wished for them to truly be subservient, to experience the same oppressions he had? Had he not wanted to rub Anders’ self-righteous face in what slavery truly was? 

A trickle of fear. _Anders_. 

If the mage had been pulled through to this strange world, too, he would have only been here an hour or so. And even if some mages were being sold, that didn’t mean…

His panic was getting the better of him. To be in a city that openly sold people as possessions had triggered a flood of fears, but there was no reason to think the worst.

He just had to find the mage and figure out how to get home. How much trouble could Anders have got into in an hour?

 

***

 

A lot, it turned out. 

Fenris found his way to where Anders’ clinic should have been relatively easily. The layout of the streets above and the world below did not seem to have changed much. But Darktown had.

If he’d thought the place squalid before, it was nothing to what he saw now. Men and women huddled together in detritus, many of them coughing and spluttering, all of them filthy.

He strode to the back of what should have been a clear, calm space - a sanctum of healing. There was nothing, here. No sign of the mage. 

“Any of you see a man here? A mage?” he asked. 

For the most part, they ignored him, or shot him a quick glare before turning away.

“Whassit to you?” A creature with heavily mattered hair, barely recognisable as an elf, unfolded itself from the grime to his right.

Fenris sighed and dug silver from his purse.

She pocketed it swiftly. “Yours, was he? Yeah, I saw ‘im. Sen’ ‘im off where ‘e came. ‘Eard Templars found him ri’ enough. P’olly giz ‘im back to you iffin you gorrim rocked right.”

Fenris’s heart sank. Much of what she said was so garbled to be unintelligible, but the gist was there. There had been a mage here. Templars had him.

If what the slaver above had said told him anything, it was that the Chantry sold mages as slaves. Whatever ridiculous, bitter fantasies he might have held, he wouldn’t wish this on Anders.

Fenris hefted his purse. It was lucky he had so much coin on him, having planned to buy one of the Emporium’s over-priced weapons at last. There was a chance he could buy the abomination from the Chantry with a minimum of fuss. A chance. He grimaced. Repressed a shudder at what he was contemplating. He would not truly be buying Anders. Merely his freedom. He would take the mage from the Gallows, the mage would get them home, and then they would both be free.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris thinks he can fix everything by buying Anders and then freeing him. Anders educates him.

“I saw him, and I want to purchase him, I’m not sure what the problem is,” Fenris was saying to the bored-looking Templar he’d eventually been pointed towards in the Gallows.

“No problem,” the Templar said. “It’s just that if we’ve only just taken him, he’ll be barely out of processing. Still got to be sorted. Procedure would put him to auction. You know how it is.”

Fenris snorted and tried to sound as though he knew what he was talking about. Tried to recall things Danarius might have said whilst bargaining for slaves in Tevinter. “He’s fresh caught. Completely wild. You know you won’t get a good price for him at auction. I’m willing to pay double what he’s worth just to make this easy.”

She looked at him shrewdly. “Keen on this one, eh?” She shrugged. “Well, you’re in luck. He’s been rocked for pleasure - pretty face. Doesn’t matter too much how wild they are once they’ve been rocked. And you know you’re paying for quality enchantment with the Chantry.”

Fenris didn’t like the sound of that, but tried not to be distracted by what was clearly a haggling tactic. “Please, he’s had no training. In five years you might make money on that face, but not today. And what’s a face five years on? I want him now.”

She rubbed her lips, considering. “OK. Eighty gold, not a penny less.”

Fenris had no idea if that represented a good price in this world. How could anything be a good price to buy a life? “Fifty,” he said, knowing he ought to haggle to avoid raising suspicions.

“Seventy-five; he’s a healer. Good for if you like to be adventurous, if you know what I mean.”

He did not want to know what she meant. “Sixty, and you know you’re swindling me.”

She smiled. “Sold.”

Fenris felt sick handing over the money. Paying for a person. But it was to gain his freedom. A mere performance until they could get home.

 

***

 

Anders was surprised by the wash of relief he felt to see Fenris. _Never thought I’d be glad to see him_. But then… was he right to assume this was a rescue? Surely this was everything Fenris had ever dreamed of.

 _Hypocrite!_ Anders wanted to shout at him, but then the impulse dissipated. He was glad to see the elf. Glad to get out of a version of the Gallows that seemed even worse than what he had worked so tirelessly to rescue mages from. Glad to get away from the hands that had poked and prodded and stroked in the most intimate places, preparing him for his new owner.

 _Fenris_. Fenris was his new owner.

And they had done something to him. Something that had to do with the hard lump he could feel at the base of his neck, and the soreness in his groin. Something that made the thought of being with Fenris feel… right.

He shuddered. He could fight this. He knew they’d enchanted him somehow. He could recognise these feelings and set them aside. He didn’t belong to Fenris. He didn’t belong to anyone.

“Are we done here?” Fenris was asking.

“He’s all yours,” said the Templar.

“Come,” Fenris barked. He turned and walked to the exit without so much as looking back.

Anders followed.

 

***

 

They sat in awkward silence for the journey back to the docks. Anders had tried to say something once they were in the courtyard, but Fenris had cut him off. “Quiet, mage. Quiet until we’re in Lowtown,” he’d barked.

Anders had glared at him, but obeyed. Fenris felt sick. Would he ever stop feeling sick again?

He set a hard pace for them once they reached the docks and as soon as they were in Lowtown he pulled the mage off into an alley.

“There,” he said, once they were alone. “I free you. You’re free.”

Anders stared at him, looking strange and out of place in the plain white clothes they’d dressed him in - his hair loose, his shirt open almost to the navel. “You think that’s all it takes, do you?” Anders said. “Am I supposed to thank you, now?”

Fenris shrugged. “I imagine here they have some laws. They gave me some paperwork.” He brandished a fistful of documents the Templars had given him that he hadn’t bothered to look at and doubted he could read. “I suppose you should act the part while we’re here. When we’re in public. But we’re not _from_ here. We just have to get home.”

Anders’ eyebrows shot up. “Did they tell you nothing? Don’t you know what they did?”

Fenris looked at him uneasily. “I – I didn’t want them to know I wasn’t from here. If I’d asked too many questions they might have raised the price.”

“You didn’t want to ask questions in case they _overcharged you for me_?”

Fenris’s stomach sank in the face of Anders’ outrage. He didn’t even want to defend himself. “Mage, I only have what I took to the Black Emporium with me,” he said, weakly. “If they’d asked for too much – if I couldn’t afford you…”

Anders eyes were glassy now. He rubbed a hand over his face. “So. You’ve no idea.” He leant back against the alley wall.

“They – they said you’d been ‘rocked’. I didn’t know what they meant.”

Anders nodded. “Give me your hand,” he said.

Fenris held out his arm and Anders grabbed his hand roughly, pulled it up to the back of his neck. “There. Do you feel it?”

He did. A lump, under the skin. Small, but solid. Firmly attached. “Something on your spine,” he said.

Anders nodded, then grabbed Fenris’s other hand. “And here as well,” he said, locking eyes as he pulled the hand down to his groin. For a moment, Fenris’s hand rested against Anders’ soft, flaccid cock, and then he jerked back and away, out of Anders’ grasp. He hadn’t felt any ‘rock’ down there, but he got the point.

“They made me a pleasure slave,” the mage said, his voice brittle. “Did you ask for that?”

“What? No!” Fenris protested.

The mage nodded, but didn’t seem any happier. “The top rock makes me do what you say. Makes it feel _good_ to do what you say. I don’t know what the bottom rock does, but I can _guess_.” Anders’ voice had taken on a high, panicky edge. “So you see, whether you like it or not. I am still _your slave_.”

Fenris felt his own panic rising. He had to squash it down, for both their sakes. “I – we – no. You’re not. You’re under an enchantment. That’s all. And we’ll fix that. Once we get home.”

“Oh, good,” Anders said. “You know how to do that then, do you? Do you have the Esorekt?”

“I – no,” Fenris admitted. “But I think - if we can just find the Black Emporium…”

“There might not even _be_ a Black Emporium here, Fenris. My clinic was gone. All my – my things…” Anders’ eyes were wide, panic clearly growing in him. “It’s like I never existed here. Never came to Kirkwall. I-”

Fenris knew he should say something, do something, but he had no idea how to comfort the mage. “Alright,” he said. “Alright. We need to work something out, but this isn’t helping. We’ll go back to the mansion. That seems more or less the same. Come on.”

The mage’s mouth snapped shut at the order and his eyes seethed with anger. “Yes, Fenris,” he said, seeming to put every ounce of hate that had ever been between them into the words.

Fenris swallowed. If it kept the mage calm and manageable until they were somewhere more private, it would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This posting once a week thing is HARD. I want you guys to see everything NOW. But I hope it's gonna enable me to post more fully-formed chapters in the long run. We'll see.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new and even more unpleasant aspect of the enchantment is revealed. Fenris is left struggling to understand what has happened, trying to find a way to help Anders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brings us up to date with where I got to in the previous iteration of this work. Next chapter brings entirely new content.

The walk to Hightown was long, and Anders’ frustration grew with every step. While Fenris hadn’t ordered him to silence again, he was forced to recognise that arguing with the elf in the street would not be wise. Just walking behind him was enough: following wherever he went, feeling an ugly tug of loyalty - almost a relief that he knew he was doing what his master wanted. By the time they entered the dilapidated mansion, he was seething, wanted to vomit to purge himself of these feelings that were not his own.

He closed the door behind them with a slam and glared as Fenris turned round to face him. 

The elf held up his hands placatingly, almost a kind of pleading in his eyes. “I know you’re angry,” Fenris began.

Anders felt like he’d been struck, filled with a wave of guilt and fear. He’d done something wrong. Something very wrong.

Whatever Fenris said next was lost to him, heard distantly, as though under water. The mansion seemed to fade away around him, replaced by darkness. Darkness, and the crushing sense of being alone. Of having been alone for a long time.

Anders staggered. He knew where he was.

He’d never left.

Everything since had been a fantasy of escape. A delusion. Just one among many. He was still here. Still locked in a dark room in the Circle tower. Alone. Forever alone. An eternity alone.

The pressing sense of darkness clouded out all vision and with a roaring in his ears, he collapsed.

 

***

 

Fenris stared in horror as the mage keeled over, a look of sheer panic on his face.

“Mage?” He rushed forward, pushing back the fine blond hair and lifting the mage’s head. He was breathing, but completely unconscious.

“Mage. Anders – wake up.” Fenris gave his shoulder a small shake. No response.

Heart hammering hard in his chest, his hooked his arms under the mage and heaved him up. He almost expected the man to stir from the movement, but he remained motionless, his head lolling.

Fenris shoved down his own fears and carried the mage through the mansion, up the stairs and to his bed. Or the bed of the Fenris who lived here. Which raised a myriad of questions he wasn’t equipped to deal with right now.

The bed was still unmade and rumpled from how he had left it that morning. He wished now his own habits were more ordered. He’d not considered the prospect of taking anyone else to his bed for a long time, and whilst Anders was not someone he usually cared to impress, laying the unconscious mage down in his weeks’ old sheets seemed an unnecessary addition to the insults of this situation.

He laid Anders down as gently as he could and decided he could at least replace the blanket. Fortunately, the Fenris who lived here kept his spares in the same place he did. They were dusty and stale-smelling, but clean. He swapped the one on the bed for a new one and covered up the unconscious man.

“Anders,” he said again, giving the mage another little shake.

Nothing.

He had no idea what had happened and even less what to do. He almost wished he’d spent more time fetching the blanket so he might still be occupied.

Perhaps he should fetch the mage a glass of water for when he woke up. Yes. Good. That he could do.

He found the kitchen just where he expected it to be, with the same glassware in its cupboards that he had at home. Was relieved to find the mansion had the same dwarven plumbing as it did back in their world. Filled a glass. Returned to the room with the unconscious mage.

Anders had not moved.

He set the glass down on the bedside table and sat beside the prone form on the bed.

Panic started to worm its way into his heart again.

This must be connected to the enchantments they’d placed on the mage, but without knowing more…

He remembered the documents he’d been given by the Templars. Maybe there was something there that would explain what had happened or what he needed to do. The Templar who’d filled out his paperwork had repeated several times that pleasure slaves required special care. He hadn’t paid attention as he’d had no intention of using Anders that way. Perhaps there was something in the papers that would tell him what to do. Surely having one’s slave collapse on you couldn’t be an intended feature.

He ran down the stairs and scooped up the papers he’d dropped in his shock. Taking them back to the bedroom, he tried to make sense of them.

He understood maybe one word in five.

Here were two documents that he’d signed with the scrawl he used as a signature. A contract, he supposed. The Templar had pointed where to put his mark and he hadn’t asked questions.

Then there was something more like a booklet, dense with printed type. The front he could read. ‘Caring for Your Slave’, it said. He grimaced. This, he supposed, was what he needed, not that it helped him much. If there was a section for ‘What to do if your mage collapses’ he couldn’t read it.

He looked over at Anders in despair. How long should he sit here fretting, just hoping the man would wake up?

The rational part of his mind told him that if this was caused by the enchantment, it would be temporary and the mage would come round in good time. But the longer he sat alone in this room that both was and wasn’t his, with nothing but the sound of the mage’s breathing for company, the less he could ignore the realities of their situation. A situation in which he had somehow come to own someone. And however much he wanted that to be a technicality he could dismiss, he couldn’t ignore that it was having very real consequences for Anders.

Panic started to rise again. He couldn’t just sit here. He didn’t want to leave the mage alone, but… he needed help. He needed someone who could explain to him whatever it was he was supposed to be able to read in the booklet.

There had been a stall in Hightown market that had been full of mage supplies – robes, staffs, herbs - along with a wealth of other knickknacks that had looked like the kind of thing he would never normally touch. Surely if they sold supplies for mages they’d know a bit about ‘caring’ for one, whatever that meant.

Tucking the blanket more firmly about Anders, Fenris decided he should at least ask. The market wasn’t far away. He wouldn’t be long, he promised himself.

 

***

 

The man at the stall gave him a cheery greeting. “Hello there! How can I help you this fine morning, serrah?”

Fenris cleared his throat. “I hope you can,” he said, speaking what he’d rehearsed in his mind, trying to sound natural. “I’m actually looking for a bit of advice. I recently purchased a mage from the Chantry and, well, he’s collapsed on me. I thought from the Chantry he’d be good stock, but… do you know what might cause that? Have I done something wrong? I don’t want to trek back to the Gallows over this.”

The man nodded in sympathy. “Sorry to hear that. First time owner, is it? You’re right, Chantry should do better, but it can happen. Any chance you’d just given him an order? Something he didn’t do to your satisfaction?”

Fenris frowned. “No, I don’t think so. We’d just got home. Why?”

“Well,” the man said, leaning back on his table, seeming pleased to be able to wax on his knowledge. “Chantry rocks are good, dependable. Should take care of all your punishments for you. And if your mage was raised in the Circle his punishments will have been tailored at just the right level, so when he does something wrong, it should punish him just so.”

Fenris had a sinking feeling. “What do you mean, it punishes him?”

“Draws on the mage’s own memories, see. Very efficient. Your mage does something wrong, instantly he remembers something bad. He doesn’t do it again. Your Circle mages should just remember something from their training – a good telling off for some, maybe a beating if they were more spirited. But what you’re describing, that tends to only happen with apostates that were captured later in life. Sounds like your mage has a cracker of a memory locked away there. Shoddy work for them to give him to you without warning. Slaves like that need care, you know? Not everybody wants that bother.”

Fenris stared. Imagined what would have happened to him had he been punished in such a way. Transported back to the memory of receiving his markings whenever he did something wrong. Surely Anders had nothing that bad to remember, but… He repressed a shudder, trying to maintain his image as a mildly concerned slave owner. “Is there anything I can do? I don’t want him collapsing on me every time he fouls up.”

The shopkeeper smiled in sympathy. “I’d take him back, not gonna lie. But if you want this one and you’re prepared to put in the effort, it can be rewarding. Tend to be very loyal once they figure out what not to do to set it off. Here,” he said. “What kind of slave is he?”

“Pleasure,” Fenris admitted.

The man wrinkled his nose. “OK, I can see why you might not want to trade in. Can be hard to find one that’s just right, and a pretty face or a good body makes up for a lot. You’ll want this,” he slapped a book down on the table. “Lots of good advice. Have him eating out of your hand – literally, if that’s your thing.” Fenris repressed the urge to punch the man. “And buy him a bunch of treats for when he wakes up. He’s gonna blame the thing in his neck and think you’re the kindest master he could ask for. I guarantee you.”

Fenris willed his clenched fists to open. The man was talking as though they were discussing a dog. He could imagine exactly how well Anders would take being offered treats to make him feel better after whatever memory he had been forced to relive.

The shopkeep seemed oblivious to his distaste, blithely adding a jar of perfume, some kind of oil, and a box of candied fruits to the book, looking to turn a profit on this little advice session. “They got heightened senses, you know,” he was saying. “So they love this stuff – scents, sweets, anything that feels good, smells good, tastes good.”

Fenris said nothing. He supposed he should buy this crap, if just to stop himself standing out as weird or rude. “How much?”

The man grinned. “One gold, seventeen silver.”

He tossed the money down and picked up the book and ‘treats’, just looking to get out of the situation as quickly as possible.

“Thank you, ser!” the man called after him as Fenris made a swift exit up the steps towards his mansion.

At least he now knew what had happened.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders wakes up, confused and distressed. Fenris learns some things he didn't know about what Anders experienced in the circle. Together they piece together more of what the enchantment will do to Anders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bank holiday weekend! Posting a day early in celebration.

Fenris was startled out of the blank kind of despair he had settled into by the rasping sound of indrawn breath.

Anders was clutching tightly at the bed sheets, his eyes wide and darting about the room.

 _Scared_. And more than scared, Fenris realised: _terrified_.

 _Sounds like your mage has a cracker of a memory locked away there,_ the shopkeep had said. Just what had happened to the man to terrify him so?

Anders’ eyes landed on Fenris and he stared, breathing hard.

Gingerly, Fenris reached forward and took his hand. Anders didn’t pull away, but he made a small sound and his wild-eyed gaze focused on where their hands touched.

“I am sorry, mage – Anders,” he corrected himself. Anders deserved to hear his own name. “I don’t know what caused this, but it is not something I would ever have wished for.”

Anders pulled his hand out of Fenris’s grasp, closed his eyes, and whispered, “I don’t believe you.”

It hurt to hear that the mage thought Fenris would ever wish this on him – on anyone – but he supposed it was understandable. “Ma… Anders,” he said. “Whatever differences there have been between us in the past, please believe me–”

Anders squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. “I don’t believe you, I don’t believe you, I don’t believe you,” he repeated, intensity growing.

Fenris reached for his hand again, but Anders flinched away.

“It’s not real,” he said, his voice a little louder. “This isn’t real. It can’t be real. I won’t believe it.”

Folding his hands in his lap, Fenris said hesitantly, “I am sorry, Anders. I wish it weren’t real, but it is. I will fix this, I promise.”

Anders’ eyes flicked open, and he snorted, pulling himself into a sitting position. “And what must I do in order for you to ‘fix’ this?” he asked, his voice thick with bitter distrust.

“Nothing,” Fenris reassured him. “I swear it. We will find a way together. We will fix this, and we will get home.”

Anders laughed, shaky and high. His eyes danced about the room. “This can’t be real,” he said again, though he didn’t appear to be speaking to Fenris. “But I’m not sure which is worse. Am I slave to a man who hates me, or… or… am I still _here_. Am I still in… in the dungeon? Did I never escape? Did I…?” His voice trailed off and he raised a shaking hand to rub over his face.

Fenris held his breath while he thought. Did Anders think him an illusion? “Anders, where do you think you are?”

The mage rubbed both hands over his face, looking sidelong at Fenris as they slid down his cheeks. “I don’t know,” he said. “It seems like there are two options, and I don’t want either of them to be true. And in one of them I’m talking to a demon, so.”

Fenris’s eyebrows rose, indignant. “I am _not_ a demon.”

Anders rolled his eyes. “OK, good, glad that’s settled.”

“Why would you think I was a demon? I don’t look like a demon,” Fenris protested. He knew with his brands lit he looked strange, and the uninformed might mistake him for a mage or creature of magic, but that was unlikely to happen with Anders.

“Demons can look like anything they want,” Anders replied, quietly. “Especially when you’ve hardly spoken to a living soul for months and you start seeing things anyway.”

A shiver ran down Fenris’s spine. He was still unsure what had happened to Anders, but what his words hinted at was bad. “You did not speak to anyone…?”

“Well, a cat,” Anders shrugged. “And Chuff and Huff the guards; though they never spoke back. Neither did Mr Wiggums, of course, but he meowed. Sometimes he purred…” Anders trailed off and reached up to rub his neck, stopping still when his fingers found the bump on his spine.

He met Fenris’s eyes.

“This is the real one, isn’t it?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Fenris replied, feeling the inadequacy.

Anders looked down. “Don’t be,” he said. “This is… this is not good, but… The idea that I’d never left, never joined the Wardens, never met Hawke, never lived free… That I was still alone in a dark room under Kinloch Hold…” Anders closed his eyes and wrapped his arms across his chest. Tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes and he brushed them away. “I know I must seem _weak_ to you, to be so rattled by just…”

“No, mage,” Fenris tried to reassure him. “I–”

“What happened?” Anders asked, frowning. “One moment I was in your house, and then… it was like I never left. It was like…”

“I believe,” Fenris said, “It is a form of punishment. The… thing, in your neck. A man at the market told me….” He fished out the book he’d felt pressured to buy as though it would help. “He said the, uh, rock draws on your own memories of being punished, when you’ve done something wrong. But mage… Anders. You didn’t do anything wrong. And I – I would never want you to be punished like that. Never. Whatever it made you remember–”

Anders closed his eyes, breathing out through his nose. “But I did do something wrong,” he said. “I remember now. I felt it like… like my worst regret. Like the worst thing I had ever done. We walked into your house and you turned around and you said, ‘I know you’re angry.’” Anders met his eyes. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be angry with you, Fenris. Or at least… I don’t think you’re ever supposed to know that I’m angry.”

Fenris was speechless. This thing – this cursed piece of magic would punish him so severely just for… being angry?

He watched as Anders lifted a trembling hand to his mouth and spoke through the fingers. “I’m not supposed to be angry with you.”

A shudder ran through Fenris again. Yet… had he not seen slaves punished in Danarius’s household for the same? For having a bad attitude? For insufficiently disguising the fact that they did not enjoy their work – for failing to conceal it behind fixed and meaningless smiles.

“Anders, look at me.”

Immediately, Anders did, and Fenris cursed himself for the poor choice of words.

He pressed on. “You do not need to hide your anger from me. You have every reason to feel angry. I do not want you to be punished for how you feel. I want you to tell me what you think. I want–”

“I’m not sure it works that way, Fenris,” Anders said, swallowing. “I, umm, I’m supposed to please you, and…”

“ _You don’t have to do that_ ,” Fenris said – perhaps a bit too quickly, a bit too firmly.

Anders flinched. “I’m sorry,” he said reflexively.

Fenris had to look away. How had this happened? How was it there was a man sitting across from him who now lived in fear of his displeasure? A fierce man. An independent man. A difficult and frustrating man. But completely cowed by whatever memory the enchanted rock in his neck had thrown at him. A slave.

His slave. Whether he wanted that or not.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Fenris went on more quietly, looking back at Anders. “I just want you to know that _I_ do not wish for you to be punished for speaking your mind. You have every right to be furious – with me and with this cursed world we’ve landed in,” he said. “I want you to continue to speak your mind. I – I don’t want you to please me. I just want you to be yourself.”

Anders closed his eyes. “Fenris, I…” he seemed to find the words difficult. Opening his mouth, closing it, swallowing, trying again. “I think there are certain things I just _have_ to do now. It’s… the strangest sensation, but I want to please you. And I want to do what I’m told. The thought that you don’t want me to please you…” He swallowed. “It’s like I’ve disappointed you. Not the same as being punished, but… Please don’t ask me to do things I might not be able to do. I think I’m meant to please you, I…” his mouth hung open as he struggled to complete the sentence.

Fenris took his hand, making the mage open his eyes again. “I am not disappointed with you,” he said, carefully. “You will never disappoint me by being yourself or speaking your mind. But…you… should only do what you are comfortable with. And,” he added, thinking quickly, “Please let me know, mage, if I say or do anything that makes this more difficult.” Holding Anders’ eyes, he said as clearly as he could: “You are not a slave. This is an enchantment, and we _will_ break it. If there are things you need to make it easier, tell me.”

Anders’ warm, amber eyes held his for a moment longer, then he nodded. “Alright,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

The edges of Fenris’s mouth turned down. None of this was what he wanted. But that wasn’t what Anders needed to hear right now. So he swallowed and nodded.

Anders took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “OK, then,” he said. “OK.”

The mage looked about him, seeming to take in the room for the first time. His eyes skirted over the papers on the bedside table, the bag of purchases at Fenris’s feet, and the book he had put down on the bed.

“What’s this?” the mage said, picking up the book. “‘ _My First…_ ’ Fenris, this book is called _My First Pleasure Slave_ – are you kidding me?”

Fenris’s cheeks burned. “The, uh – the man at the market, at the mage stall. When you collapsed and you wouldn’t wake up, I didn’t know what had happened, or what to do, and he knows mages, so… I asked him. And then he wanted to sell me things.” He gestured to the bag. “I… did not want to raise suspicion, so I bought some of them. I thought the book might be useful.”

Anders raised his eyebrows. “Well, today has certainly been your day for buying things…” he muttered. The sideways tilt of his smile suggested a joke, but it cut rather close to home.

Fenris had bought a man today. A human being. A person. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing so that Anders would not see how his words had unsettled him.

He opened his eyes and tried to summon something of his usual dry wit. “I will endeavour to be more thrifty from now on.”

Anders snorted and opened the book. “So,” he said. “What does it say about me?”

Heat flooded his cheeks. “I… do not know. I tried to read it, but although it was clearer than the one the Templar gave me, there were too many words I didn’t know.”

Anders frowned. “You didn’t…?”

“I… have only recently begun learning to read, mage. It is not something they teach slaves in Tevinter,” he admitted.

“Oh,” Anders replied. “I didn’t realise. I…” Anders trailed off, awkwardly searching for something polite to say.

Fenris cleared his throat. “Hawke was teaching me. I can read some of them. The first sentence, I know it begins, ‘Before you…’ but then I could not get the next word.”

Anders cast his eyes over the page, and snorted again. “It says, ‘Before you purchase your slave,’ – _before_ , Fenris - ‘you should consider whether you have the time and resources to properly care for a pleasure slave. A pleasure slave can be very rewarding,’” the mage cleared his throat, “‘but to ensure that they are always ready and willing,’” Anders pulled a face, “‘pleasure slaves are enchanted to have certain drives. If you cannot regularly take advantage of these drives it will cause your slave distress and may even damage them,’ – oh, great – ‘Services exist (as detailed in chapter two) to help manage a pleasure slave’s needs, but if you think you may only occasionally wish to use them for sex, you might consider purchasing an ordinary slave, or visiting a public booth or brothel.’”

He closed the book and put it down on the bed. “Wow,” he said. “That’s just… that’s just dandy.” Anders’ eyes flicked down to his groin, then up to the ceiling. “Andraste’s bloody knickers.”

“Mage,” Fenris said, “I am not going to do any of that.”

Anders swallowed. “Right, well, that’s nice. But according to the book, if you _don’t_ do _some_ of that it’s going to cause me distress and maybe even ‘damage’.” He flipped the book open again and began leafing through it. “I think I need to know more about that.”

Anders read silently, his eyes flickering rapidly over the pages.

“Mage,” Fenris said. “Anders, please tell me what it says.”

“Hmm,” Anders said. “Well. Apparently, these ‘drives’ are going to make me want to ‘please’ you, and they will continue to build until I… bring you to ‘satisfaction’. They really like their euphemisms. If I don’t, the drives will continue to build, becoming uncomfortable after three days and potentially damaging if I am left ‘unused’ for more than five days.” Anders paused to push the hair back from his face. “In the first instance I am required to service _you_ , but you can order me to pleasure someone else, and bringing them to satisfaction will work just as well. That’s nice, isn’t it?”

Fenris didn’t respond. He felt sick.

“The afore-mentioned public booths are provided by the chantry. If you don’t have any friends to pass me around to, you can send me there to service anyone who fancies it. Chantry healers certify that anyone using that service is clean and anyone who misuses a slave loaned to a public booth is severely punished or banned for life. Which is… which is really very decent of them when you think about it.”

Anders was breathing harder now and his eyes were glassy.

Fenris wanted to take his hand again, but wasn’t sure the mage would welcome the touch.

“That will not happen to you,” he promised.

“Right,” Anders said, not looking at Fenris.

“I will not let it happen,” Fenris insisted. “We’re not going to be here for three days, let alone five. I’m going to find the Esorekt. We’ll get home, and we’ll get those things out of you.”

Anders nodded, but did not seem convinced.

“This… this has been a lot,” he said. “Why don’t I see if the Fenris who lives here has left us something to eat in his kitchen?” Fenris found he didn’t want to mention the candied fruit in his bag. It seemed somehow… too frivolous. As though it would seem mocking to offer them now.

Anders looked at him with wide staring eyes, but the mage nodded. “Yes, sure, OK,” he said.

Fenris told himself he was not fleeing the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone in Fenris's bedroom, Anders deals with old memories of solitary confinement and new memories of being prepared for his new owner in the Circle. Fenris makes lunch and wonders what has become of Justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for non-consensual sexual touching - not Fenris.

Anders stifled the urge to call after Fenris and beg him to come back. 

He wasn’t really alone. He wasn’t a prisoner. The door was open. He could leave and find Fenris any time he wanted. 

And his time in solitary confinement was years, not minutes ago. 

Though it seemed so real. When he closed his eyes his heartbeat sped – it was so hard to believe that he was not still in that cold, dark room. He needed to see and feel with every part of his body that it wasn’t the case. 

And he wanted to be with Fenris. He wanted to be with _anyone_ , but he would prefer to be with Fenris. 

He rubbed his hands over his face again – as he had so many times in the last few minutes. As though he could rub off the close sense of clammy darkness that seemed to hide behind every blink of his eyes. 

He made a frustrated noise and pushed back the covers of Fenris’s bed. 

He was still dressed in the plain white clothes they had given him in the Gallows. He’d been naked when he first awoke. A woman dressed in grey had been rubbing up and down his legs with oil. He’d tried to sit up, but… 

_Lay still_ , she had said. 

And he had. 

Just like that. 

She’d gone on to chatter soothingly. She told him how pretty he was. How he had been lucky to be found. How he would be better fed in the Circle, or as someone’s pet. That all his needs would be cared for, and that as pretty as he was he was sure to find a good owner soon. 

He’d tried to talk – to splutter his confusion – but she had shushed him. Slowly, in cheerful, gentle words, she had explained that he was a slave. That he would now do whatever he was told by any member of the Chantry, the Templars, or whoever bought him. 

As she'd moved up to his chest, smoothing her heavily scented oils into his skin, she’d explained how they had shaved the scant hairs he’d had there, and that he would need to talk to his owner to establish what they liked. Probably, he would need to continue to do this himself, she advised. 

The smooth rub of her hands, roaming over his unmoving body should have been invasive – _was_ invasive – but it also felt delicious. It was hard to ignore the rush that came with the firm press of her hands up his skin, and he’d flushed when he realised that he was slowly getting hard. 

The woman had noticed, too. She’d smiled and reached with an oil-smeared hand to grasp his cock. He’d gasped as the blood rushed south in response and she began to rub along his length. 

That was to be another part of his new life, she had explained, fondling his balls with her free hand as the first continued to rub. 

He would find he was very responsive, she'd told him. 

Then she’d laughed and let go of his genitals, sighing. 

_No time for me to have fun, though_ , she’d said, with regret. Someone else would see he was properly trained. 

She’d gone back to rubbing him down, his aching hard cock twitching for attention. 

Later, when she had rolled him on to his front, so that she could oil his back, someone else had entered. A man. He had casually rested his palm on Anders’ buttocks while he chatted to the woman.

“You’ll have to stop,” the man had said. “He needs to get dressed, so wash this crap off.” The man slapped Anders’ arse.

“But I only just-” the woman protested. 

“I know,” said the man, “But he already has a buyer. Some damned-insistent elf who doesn’t know his back’s all fucked up. Bloody idiots – rocking a man for pleasure when he’s all scarred up like that. That’s a good ten gold off any pleasure price, but barely makes a dent on a normal slave. Anyway. He needs to be dressed, and he can’t be all oily for that, so sponge him down.”

And she had. She hadn’t even let him wash himself – just sluiced him off with a damp sponge as though he was a doll or a statue.

Then dressed him in this.

Plain white cotton. Slightly rumpled for having been slept in.

Anders got to his feet and crossed to the cracked mirror in the corner of the room.

His fragmented reflection showed a surprising amount of his chest, and he felt a stir of pride that there were some muscles there to see.

His hair was mussed. He ran his fingers through it and straightened it out as best he could.

Better, but he still felt very… plain. He found himself wondering what Fenris had made of this outfit.

The thought of Fenris looking at him sent a pleasurable shiver through his body. It was disquieting to realise how much he hoped Fenris thought he looked good.

But even that was a welcome distraction from the memory of being alone. Of the cold solitude of the dungeon under Kinloch Hold.

Shaking his head to dismiss the sour memory, Anders went in search of the elf.

 

***

 

Fenris looked up when he entered, and Anders felt a strange, giddy flutter to meet those deep, green eyes.

It felt _good_ to have Fenris’s attention.

 _It’s just the enchantment_ , he told himself. But knowing that didn’t make the feeling go away.

Fenris’s face was unreadable as he turned back to cutting up slices of apple to go with some cheese and bread that had already been laid on two plates.

 _It’s not a dismissal_ , Anders told himself. He’s just making lunch – why _would_ he be looking at you all the time?

“There isn’t much, but it’s edible,” Fenris said, handing Anders one of the plates.

“It looks fine,” he replied.

In fact, it looked great. The scent of the apple seemed peculiarly strong, filling the air with a fresh crispness that made Anders’ mouth water. He put a slice in his mouth and almost melted.

“Mmm,” he moaned. “This apple is _amazing_ ,” he said. “Do you think they just grow better here?”

Fenris avoided Anders’ gaze as he sat down at the table. “I don’t think it is the apple,” he said, uncomfortably.

Anders frowned, putting another slice in his mouth and savouring the taste – quite unlike any other apple he’d ever eaten before. Sharp and tangy and with a texture moist yet firm… “No, you’re wrong. Honestly, try some,” he said. “I’ve never tasted anything like this, it’s-”

“It’s not the apple,” Fenris said, hunching his shoulders and looking up through his fringe. “It’s you.”

Anders swallowed the apple slice, meeting Fenris’s eyes. “What?”

The elf looked away. “Your… senses… have been heightened. By the enchantment. The man at the mage stall explained to me. It’s to help make sure everything feels good to you.”

“Oh,” he said. Anders looked down at the food on his plate. Somehow the apple slices now spoke of betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” Fenris said, quietly.

“Not your fault, is it?” Anders said.

Fenris hunched further in on himself.

“No, look,” Anders said. “It’s not. And really… apple tasting better than anything I’ve ever eaten before isn’t such a bad thing.” He didn’t sound convincing even to himself.

Fenris made a noise, but didn’t say anything else. They ate in silence for a while.

Finally, Fenris seemed to recover himself and looked up. The elf was frowning.

“What does your…” He cleared his throat and started again. “What does your _spirit_ make of all this?”

Anders raised his eyebrows. “I thought you thought Justice was a demon,” he said, trying to cover the anxiety that question provoked.

Fenris pursed his lips and seemed to swallow a response. “I… admit, your… situation makes me uncomfortable. But it did not seem the moment to pick a fight over that.”

That was… surprisingly reasonable. Anders sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I can’t sense him. At all.”

Fenris stared. “You… do you think that they somehow… exorcised him?”

An icy spike of fear ran through Anders’ body. “ _No_ ,” he said, then swiftly checked his tone. He needed to remember to be careful how he spoke to Fenris. “No. I’m sure it’s not… Look, this thing,” he gestured to his neck, “It’s not just controlling how I feel and what I do. It’s cut me off from a good portion of my magic. Not everything. I’m not _tranquil_ , thank the Maker, but when I reach for the Fade, everything’s sort of… muffled. Narrowed. I’ve not exactly had the chance to try anything out, but I’m fairly sure I’ll be limited in what I’m able to do. I think it might be cutting me off from Justice, too. If I’d been able to feel Justice I never would have thought I was back in Fereldan. I’d have known. Instantly.”

Fenris tilted his head, considering. “They said you were a healer. When we were… haggling. It was a… selling point.” Anders saw the shudder ripple through him.

He snorted. “Yes, I’m sure it was. They always make a fuss about that,” Anders said, quietly.

 _Just a boy – and so talented! We can’t send him to the Aeonar for this. Think how valuable he’ll be once he settles down and accepts his place. We have a dungeon here. Give him some time alone. A little kindness can go a long way_.

Kindness.

Anders grunted. “So. They want to make use of the bits of mages they find helpful while trying to deny us everything else. Not so very different from home, really, just more efficient in their efforts.”

Fenris looked at him with those great big, heart-sick eyes again. Anders looked away.

“Well, anyway,” he said. “Point is: no Justice. Not for right now.” _Not where I can feel him, anyway. I hope he’s OK…_

Fenris did not respond to that. Not directly. What was he to say? ‘Sorry, Anders, I really hope you get your demon that I hate and fear back?’

Instead, they ate in silence. A simple meal that went down quickly.

“We should see if we can find the Black Emporium,” Fenris said as he finished, pushing his plate away.

“Yes.” Anders said.

“We’ve no reason to think it won’t be exactly where we left it,” Fenris went on.

Anders looked at him sceptically, but said nothing. What was the point? He didn’t have any better ideas.

“Come,” Fenris said, his stride expressing new purpose as he headed for the door.

He didn’t seem to realise that he had given Anders an order, and without even thinking about it, Anders found himself standing and following after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling kinda bummed at the moment - negative comments on my non-anon fic and just the general tension in all fandoms at the moment surrounding darkfic.
> 
> I know comment moderation is on, but please don't be put off commenting if you have positive things to say, or even just to let me know you're reading and you like it. I know this is a weird fic, but I'd really like to know if you like what I'm doing. Also, I completely understand if you want to comment on anon - after all, I'm posting that way :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the search for the Black Emporium goes poorly, Anders and Fenris retreat to the mansion to get some rest. Anders struggles with the thought of sleeping alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to post so late in the day. I have been illll this week and barely conscious tapping this out. Proper proofreading will happen in the morning.

It was starting to get dark by the time they finally found their way to where the Black Emporium should have been.

Their progress had been hampered by the fact that Fenris was sure he knew the way, but clearly did not know it was well as he thought. Anders had had to swallow his pride repeatedly as frustration welled within him. He wanted to shout that they were going the wrong way, but after Fenris ignored his more gently-phrased suggestions, he schooled himself to say nothing instead.

It would help neither of them if he were 'punished' for expressing his irritation and collapsed in a Darktown passage.

Eventually, Fenris noticed how quiet he had become and a fleeting look of guilt passed over his face.

"Mage, I... apologise," he'd said. "Perhaps you were right, earlier. I do not seem to have found the path. Which way do you think we should go?"

It should have been satisfying to hear the smug git admit his mistake, but Anders just wanted to cringe. Fenris admitting he was wrong out of pity only made him more aware of _why_ Fenris was trying to be nice.

Repressing a sigh, he'd led them back to the right path, but when they found the open space that should have housed the Black Emporium, there was nothing. Just a confluence of gutters and a few piles of refuse.

"Perhaps it was the third turning back there after all," Fenris had begun.

"No," Anders said, quietly. "It's not here, Fenris. It should be, but it's not. I recognise the notches on the wall back there."

Fenris looked about them as though some other clue would present. "It must be somewhere," Fenris said. "Perhaps it is simply in a different part of the sewers."

Anders closed his eyes and willed down the panicky flutter in his stomach as he recognised what Fenris was trying unconvincingly to deny. "If so, we're not going to find it tonight," he said. "Let's go back to the mansion and get some rest."

Fenris shook his head. "No. I'm going to fix this. All we need is to find the shop and we will be seconds from home. I _will_ free you. You will not spend another day like this."

It was touching, and a little terrifying, to see how worried Fenris was.

"Fenris... I'm tired," he said. "I know I had an unscheduled nap earlier, but it's been a taxing day. I've... been operated on. Groped. Relived some of my least favourite memories, and walked aimlessly in sewers for hours. We're not going to achieve anything by wandering the tunnels of Darktown as night falls - except maybe getting ourselves killed."

Fenris stared at him wide-eyed for several seconds. Then he swallowed, and nodded. "Of course," he said. "I have been thoughtless. We can return in the morning. But I will find it. I promise."

Anders tried to ignore the doubt that seemed to float in the air between them. He nodded, and allowed Fenris to lead them away.

 

***

 

Back in the mansion, they ate another meal of cheese and bread, and Anders was confronted again with how much richer everything tasted to him now. The cheese was hard, and likely cheep, but his tongue found tiny savory crystals to enjoy with every bite and he had to resist the urge to roll them around in his mouth and moan.

How did this part of the enchantment work? It wasn't simply that his sensory awareness had increased - that would have been a deafening cacophony of sensation. The enchantment seemed to have been carefully calibrated to increase his awareness of sensations that were pleasant. It was an intriguing achievement; though put to a disturbing purpose.

After dinner, Fenris had sped off with muttered words about preparing a room for him, and Anders was surprised by disappointment.

He had expected to return to the bed where he had slept before. Fenris's bed. And, he realised, he had expected that Fenris would join him in it.

An image rose unbidden of him lying down behind Fenris and pulling the man into his arms until they lay snugly together, Fenris's firm buttocks resting against his hardening cock.

He shook his head to dislodge it. Of course Fenris wouldn't have wanted anything like that. He didn't even like Anders, and he had very clearly expressed his disgust for the idea of using Anders as his slave.

And it wasn't something _Anders_ would have wanted twelve hours ago, he reminded himself - even as a dull ache inside let him know that, whatever he had felt before, it hurt to recognise that Fenris did not want him in his bed.

Fenris appearing at the top of the stairs was a welcome distraction. He beckoned. "Come up," he said, "It's as ready as I can make it."

Anders rose to follow at Fenris's command. He thought about saying something to the elf to ask him to be more careful with his choice of words, but dismissed it. Fenris was clearly upset by the situation and doing his best to mitigate it. And... it felt good to be doing something Fenris wanted, however minor.

The room was next to the one Fenris had taken for himself, which did something to lessen the sense of rejection. The sheets looked clean and the floor had actually been swept. Fenris had even contrived to drape some fabric over some of the holes in the roof.

"I have never had, nor expected to have, guests," Fenris explained. "I suspect the Fenris who lives here is the same. Most of the rooms are not really fit for use, but I hope that this one will do."

"It's fine," Anders said. "Thank you."

Fenris nodded. "Good," he said, shifting on his feet as if unsure what to do next. Finally, he nodded again. "Good. Then I will leave you to it," he said, and left.

Anders was alone again. Fenris had left him alone. He tried to focus on gratitude that the elf genuinely seemed to have no intention of taking advantage of the pleasure slave he had been handed. Tried to force himself to not see it as a rejection. Tried to ignore the deafening silence inside where he should have been able to feel a companion who could never leave his side - the creeping dread that Justice was no longer with him.

He took a candle with him to the bedside table and did not blow it out when he climbed into bed.

 

***

 

Fenris awoke to light falling on his face and the creak of a floorboard.

In seconds he was on his feet, sword in hand, its honed blade resting against the intruder's neck.

Anders made a small noise.

Anders. The intruder was Anders. The mage. Now _his_ mage, through a particularly cruel twist of fate.

"I'm sorry," Anders whispered, the apple of his throat bobbing so close to the bare sword. "I'm sorry. I know I shouln't have woken you - I tried to sleep, but-"

Fenris swiftly lowered his sword and laid it down.

"You've no need to apologise," he said. "I am just... not used to having anyone else in the house. Please, tell me what you need."

Anders didn't meet his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I should have thought, I..." He swallowed and seemed to collect himself. "I just...." His eyes flicked to the bed. "I know it's stupid. I know it's the enchantment but it... feels like rejection. That you don't want me in here. And being alone... i-in the dark..."

Ah. Of course. The mage's memories of solitary confinement. He knew the man was still feeling vulnerable. He should have thought.

"You don't need to let me sleep in the bed," Anders was saying. "I don't mind sleeping on the floor-"

"No!" Fenris said - a little too sharply. Anders flinched, hunching his shoulders. "I just mean," he added hastily, "I will not have you sleeping on the floor. In Tevinter, slaves sleep on the floor so that they may know their station. You're not going to sleep on the floor. We can share the bed," he said. "But that will be all." He stepped closer to make Anders look up from the floor. "It is a large enough bed. There should be no need to touch. _I will not be touching you_ ," he said, as clearly as he could.

Some of the tension seemed to leave Anders' shoulders. "Thank you," he whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders is a clingy sleeper and the influence of the enchantment continues to grow. Beginning to feel dowdy and unattractive in the plain white clothes given to him by the Chantry, Anders persuades Fenris to take him shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for deleting and reposting this chapter. I wrote it over several days and hadn't realised that when I finally posted it it wouldn't be dated as for the day it was posted (yesterday) and I didn't want people to miss it because it couldn't appear as recent in tags/searches. Sorry to anyone who's had multiple notifications as a result.

Fenris woke to warm press of arms around him and someone else's breath against his ear.

He froze.

 _Danarius_.

For a moment his mind was a blank white of fear and dread. Transported back to humid Minrathos and the magister's bed.

But no. The arm that draped across his chest was covered with fine blond hair. It was thicker than the magister's had been - more muscular - and paler. Speckled with a light dusting of freckles.

 _Anders_.

Memory returned. Their chance meeting in the Black Emporium. Their hands touching for a brief moment over a strange dark object, and then another awakening. Here. In this bed that was both his and not his. Mages sold like slaves. His dread at realising Anders was in danger - rushing to find him, but arriving too late. Haggling over the price of a human being in the Gallows. Telling Anders he was free, and then discovering he was not. Anders pulling Fenris's hand down to his cock as his way of making the nature of his enchantment as real for Fenris as it was for him. The man's anger and hurt, and the shock when he had collapsed.

It was a lot. A lot to recall all at once.

Fenris closed his eyes and breathed slowly, trying to think.

Finding himself very aware of the warm body pressed up against his back. He should push the mage away. He had promised not to touch him.

Carefully, trying not to disturb the large human who was wrapped about him, Fenris turned in Anders' arms.

Anders made a noise, and his eyes flickered blearily open. A smile crossed his face.

"Hi," he said, and ran a hand lazily down Fenris's arm.

Was he aware of what he was doing? Was he even fully awake?

Fenris pushed the arm away and shifted backwards to put more space between them.

"Anders," he said. "Do you remember what has happened?"

Anders' sleepy smile stilled on his face, and then he sighed. "Yes," he said. "I remember." He moved his hand to the back of his neck and rubbed the small bump there.

"I'm... sorry," Fenris said, and he meant it. It did not feel good to rob Anders of whatever moments he might have had not recalling that he was a slave, but he could not deceive him. Could not allow him to keep looking at him like that - as though Fenris were his lover.

Anders rolled onto his back. "Don't be," he said, and closed his eyes.

"I didn't... do-"

"I know," Anders said. "Sorry for being a... cuddly sleeper." He cleared his throat. "I forgot that I used to do that before I joined with Justice. I haven't been quite so touchy-feely with Hawke. I guess, seeing as I can't feel Justice, I..." He trailed off.

"You do not need to apologise," Fenris said.

Anders made a non-committal noise.

"I'll see what there is for breakfast," Fenris said, swinging his feet around to the floor and sitting up.

Anders made another noise, but didn't open his eyes. Perhaps the man was going back to sleep. If so, Fenris couldn't begrudge him that. He hoped Anders was able to find what peace he could.

 

***

 

Anders lay in Fenris's bed, trying to find an equilibrium between the warm happiness with which he had woken and the sour disgust that had followed soon after.

Waking up next to Fenris had felt like... well, waking up next to Hawke. Only with none of the anxiety and distraction that came from the ever-present knowledge of the work that needed to be done to free the mages of Thedas.

It had been... peaceful. Like having Fenris in his arms made everything right. Like making Fenris happy was they only thing he needed to care about, and knowing that being in his bed would do so.

Except, of course, it hadn't. Because Fenris did not want him in his bed. Did not want him. Fenris had been stiff and clearly uncomfortable in the embrace... and then had pushed him away.

Anders felt both the disappointment of his master's rejection and a deep disgust that his mind had been so easily moulded - that he should be so pliable and willing even when rejected.

He groaned and rolled out of bed.

He was still wearing the same rumpled white trousers and revealing shirt he had been dressed in at the Gallows. Yesterday it had felt plain, but was at least flattering. Today it was worse for having been slept in twice, and Anders was uncomfortably aware that these garments were unlikely to do much to make Fenris more appreciative of his form.

A sense of sadness and failure overwhelmed him as he looked at himself in the mirror. Had he thought he looked good? There was really very little to interest anyone here. None of the 'prettiness' that had so impressed his handlers at the Gallows.

He cast about and spotted a brush on the bedside table, which he used to tame his hair, but there was little he could do for the clothes. Nothing of Fenris's - or this world's Fenris- would ever fit him, and the thought of searching through the mouldering remains of the rest of the house for something attractive filled him with despair.

Reluctantly, with no choice but to continue wearing his clothes from yesterday, Anders headed downstairs to join Fenris.

 

***

 

Fenris was annoyed with the lack of variety in his counterpart's kitchen. Not that it was so very different to his own, but with two people to feed the food seemed dull and depressing. He added the candied fruit he had bought yesterday to their plates, alongside toasted bread and apple. Perhaps he wouldn't need to explain the poorly thought through gift if he simply made it a part of breakfast.

His mind also played on Anders' comments about Hawke. He'd had a suspicion that they had become closer since the trip to the Deep Roads, but hadn't realised Hawke and the mage were regularly sleeping together. What would the rogue make of their current situation? Of Fenris's 'ownership' of Anders, or the terrible enchantments that were on him?

Nothing good, he suspected. He hoped Hawke would understand that he had not and would not be taking advantage of her lover, whatever this world had done to him.

Fenris started at the noise of Anders coming down the stairs and finished getting the breakfast things together.

Anders' smile as he entered the room looked embarrassed and uncomfortable, but he brightened to see the food.

Swinging his long legs over the bench, Anders sat at the kitchen table and put a piece of candied fruit in his mouth.

He breathed out through his nose in pleasure and failed to suppress a moan.

"This is so weird," he said after he swallowed it. "I know it's something they did to me and... that's kind of horrible. But sweet Andraste, food never tasted so good."

"I am glad... that you enjoy it," Fenris said awkwardly.

Anders ducked his head and shrugged.

They ate in silence for a while, but eventually Anders pushed his plate aside and said: "Look, listen, I know we need to keep looking for the Black Emporium or... or any way to get home, but do you think we could go clothes shopping first?"

Fenris raised his eyebrows. "Clothes shopping?"

"Yeah," Anders said, giving Fenris a lopsided smile that was disarmingly charming. "I'd really rather... not stay in these clothes they gave me for a second day."

Fenris cursed himself. Of course. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I could not get your clothes from the Gallows. It would have been suspicious for me to ask for them. I know this," he gestured to Anders' shirt, which lay open nearly all the way to his waist, "Is not at all what you would normally choose to wear. Of course. You should have something more comfortable."

Anders flushed a little pink and avoided Fenris's eyes. "It's not that, precisely," he confessed. "I don't think I could wear my normal clothes comfortably either. I think they would feel too... covered up." He shifted uncomfortably, looked briefly up at Fenris's eyes, then away again. "I don't know how to explain it, but I feel... sort of itchy. Stifled." His mouth twisted down. "I know I don't look particularly attractive at the moment."

Fenris blinked. "Oh," he said, taking the mage's words in. His eyes flicked over Anders' body before he could really think what he was doing. He hadn't thought the mage looked unattractive at all. He had been trying very deliberately not to look at the definition of Anders' muscles revealed by the plunging lines of his shirt. "I wouldn't say that you... that is..." Fenris stumbled over his own words. He didn't want to discomfort the man by saying he looked attractive, and yet the enchantment was clearly making Anders feel bad for not meeting some standard.

The heat rose in Fenris's cheeks as he struggled to find the right words.

Anders smiled again, and there was a little of the familiar teasing in his eyes. "Don't worry, Fenris. I'm aware how uncomfortable this all is. I'm not... I'm not going to deliberately try to seduce you or anything." The burning in Fenris's cheeks intensified. "But I'm not comfortable dressed like this. I'd just like to try to find something... less generic, OK?"

Fenris nodded. "Yes," he said. "Fine. I - uh - I still have a fair amount of gold left over from the money I had set aside for a sword, and I found a little more that the... version of me who lives here must have been saving. I do not think we should touch that unless we have to, but it can serve as a buffer. We have enough to buy some new clothes. And I think we should get some more food from the market as well - just in case we need to stay here another day."

Fenris ignored the trickle of anxiety that ran down his spine at the sense that time was ticking away. Anders had already been under the enchantment for a day. Which left two days until the book said he would start to feel uncomfortable, and just four days until the enchantment started to cause real harm.

 _We will not be here that long_ , he vowed. But in the back of his mind he knew that the absence of the Black Emporium from where it lived in their world was a real set-back. If they were unable to find Xenon and the Esorekt, they could end up stranded in this world for good.

 

***

 

The day outside was bright and sunny, with just enough of a breeze to stop it from becoming uncomfortably warm.

They had headed towards the market, and Fenris had insisted that they buy food first. He'd hoped this would also give him a chance to identify other clothing stalls besides the mage supply vendor he had visited the previous day. The prospect of returning back there filled him with dread, and he felt sure there would be nothing there that Anders would like. But as Fenris was finishing up at the grocer's stall, the mage was already drifting over to the man that Fenris had spoken to before. He was fingering the sleeve of a flimsy-looking garment by the time Fenris walked up to join him.

"Ho, ho, my friend!" exclaimed the vendor, recognising Fenris. "Good to see you back! And is this the young man you were telling me about yesterday? I think I can see why you might not be in hurry to return him. Very nice colouring - and so tall! Bit of a rare find." The man was grinning broadly, and seemed oblivious to the glance Anders shot Fenris as the vendor looked him up and down.

Fenris cleared his throat. "Yes," he said. "I've decided he needs some new clothes."

"Very wise." The man nodded sagely. "Need something a little more eye-catching for your boy, hmm? He deserves to be displayed, and you deserve to show him off. We've got quite a range. Anything in particular you were looking for?"

"I, uh, I'm not sure," Fenris said. Nothing in the racks displaying various robes and shirts and other odds and ends seemed remotely appropriate, and yet Anders seemed to be leafing through the hangers with interest.

"What about this?" he asked, pulling out a blowsy shirt of gossamer thin fabric that was virtually transparent.

Fenris stared, wide-eyed. He couldn't be serious - he might as well go about with no shirt at all. "No," he said.  "That's ridiculous..." the mage's face fell. He recovered quickly, covering his disappointment, but not before Fenris had time to realise that Anders was serious in his suggestion.

"Right, of course not," Anders said. "I was just joking."

The vendor stepped forward to intervene. "Perhaps something with a little more colour to complement this lovely fair skin." He pulled out a red-tinted garment not that dissimilar in shape and style from the shirt Anders was already wearing - except that it was only a little less transparent than the garment Anders had chosen for himself.

"I... don't think that's really what Fenris wants," Anders said, looking down at the floor.

"Well," the shopkeep wheedled, "It's really hard to know with clothes until you see them on. Here, why don't you try a few," he pressed a few more shirts and a pair of trousers into Anders' hands. "Give your master a bit of a show and let him see how the clothes sit on you."

Anders said nothing and allowed himself to be bustled to a screened-off area at the rear of the covered stall.

"Just have a see," the man murmured as he returned to Fenris's side. "I know it can be difficult as a first time owner to have the confidence to really display your slave, but trust me - they want to do it. You said that he's had a shock - let him do something that makes him feel pretty. It'll be a treat for your eyes too, and honestly, no one's going to think it's strange. All pleasure slaves dress like this. They _like_ showing off their bodies."

Fenris ground his teeth to stop himself responding in a way that would give away quite how out of place he and Anders were. He couldn't rip this sleazy sycophant's heart from his chest in the middle of the market without getting them both in a lot more trouble.

Keeping his mouth closed, he smiled and nodded and hoped that whatever the man had given him was something that at least Anders liked. He somehow knew they weren't going to be able to get away from this stall without buying something.

While they waited for Anders to change, Fenris spent an uncomfortable few minutes grunting in response to the shopkeep's prattle - the man seemed to need little encouragement - then finally Anders emerged from behind the screen.

He was wearing a purple version of the shirt that the shopkeep had selected for him. The sleeves were long and full, gathering at the end in a more substantial cuff. They billowed about Anders' well-shaped arms, which were visible through the thin material. The two sides of the garment crossed low on his chest, letting the smooth planes of his muscles show through in the sunlight - though in truth the skin that was technically covered by the gauzy fabric was barely concealed. The trousers were simpler - fitted and black - tight enough to show a reasonable bulge at the crotch, but on the whole not distracting from the more dramatic garment above.

Fenris had thought these clothes tacky, even silly on their hangers, but gliding over Anders' smooth skin, he couldn't help but admit that the thin film of deep purple contrasted nicely with the man's colouring and set off the blond hair that was now loose about his shoulders. Anders looked good. Very good.

Fenris was staring.

A slow smile spread over Anders' face - relief mixed with a little satisfaction. "You like?" he asked.

Fenris cleared his throat and nodded.

"Yes," he said. "yes, it's fine."

Anders' smile broadened to a grin. "I can have it?"

Fenris nodded tersely.

"And these, too?" Anders said, crossing over and showing two more shirts - the same as the one he was wearing except that one was red and the other was black and decorated with gold-coloured embroidery at the cuffs.

"Yes, fine," Fenris said, looking away to dig out the money to cover quite how unsettled he was.

The vendor was very pleased and had launched into some new and annoying prattle. Meanwhile Fenris was very aware of the mage standing no more than a foot away from him, his nicely-toned abdominal muscles visible through the thin fabric of the shirt that Fenris was buying for him.

 _It is just to make him feel comfortable_ , Fenris told himself. _I will not look at him any more than is necessary_.

An easy commitment to make, but Fenris was now beginning to realise that although he was determined not to take advantage of the man, seeing that determination through might be more taxing than he imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenris: Oh no, he's hot!
> 
> I feel bad for how long this is gonna take to get to smut, given that I've tagged this as explicit. Keep wondering if I should tag this as a slow burn but don't know if it quite fits. I hope this isn't too boring a chapter. Everything takes longer to write than it does in my imagination.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders' new clothes make him feel pretty. Fenris and Anders bump into an unfamiliar man who seems to know Fenris, and who gets a bit too familiar with Anders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. I wrote the first half earlier in the week, but was just exhausted by the time Friday came and I wasn't feeling it. I've been planning the latter scene for a while and it would have been hard to write with my head in the wrong space.
> 
> Warning for non-consensual touching. Whatever Anders says or feels, he's not in a position to consent right now.

Anders was surprised how giddy his new clothes made him feel. There was a rusty mirror in the curtained off section of the stall, and the difference it made to his reflection when he changed into the new clothes was palpable.

He looked good. Really good. And though he knew much of what he was feeling was due to the enchantment, he realised that he hadn't bought anything simply because it made him feel pretty in years.

He had sold the gifts the Commander had given him long ago. A silk scarf and a gold earring were worth too much in elfroot and bandages to hang onto for sentimental reasons, and though he had won the battle of the feathers when he'd invested in the enchanted coat (which Justice had eventually agreed was a practical purchase), the garment had become worn and scuffed and sad-looking, and he had barely noticed.

He thumbed his pierced ear and wondered if it had healed up. Could he persuade Fenris to buy him a new earring?

He shook his head. What was he doing? He didn't need an earring and Fenris certainly wasn't going to buy him one.

Trying to centre his thoughts around the part of his mind that knew he was under an enchantment, Anders had pulled back the curtain and stood waiting for Fenris's judgement.

The look on the elf's face had made his stomach flutter again. Fenris was simply staring - wide-eyed an speechless. The elf _did_ like how he looked. And though his only comment was that it was 'fine', Fenris ended up paying for not only the tight trousers, but three different versions of the revealing shirt.

Anders couldn't help but grin as they walked away. The shopkeep had allowed him to wear his new clothes straight from the stall and he held the bag containing his other purchases close as they returned to the mansion.

He even caught Fenris stealing glances at him once or twice. One time he caught the elf's eyes and Anders could have sworn he detected a flush of pink washing over his pointed ears.

Maybe Fenris didn't dislike him so much after all.

Once back at the mansion, Fenris unloaded his groceries in the kitchen while Anders took the bag with his new clothes up to their room - his master's room -

Anders paused in the doorway, feeling the strangeness again as he hadn't for the precious minutes since donning his new clothes.

 _Fenris's_ room. He thought firmly to himself. _Fenris's_. His sharing it was only temporary. Fenris wasn't really his master.

 _It's an enchantment. It's an enchantment. It's an enchantment,_ he repeated to himself.

The giddy glow faded as he put his new things away, but as he descended the sweeping stairs that led from the upper floor to the main hall, he couldn't help but note that Fenris's eyes followed his passage.

That Fenris liked the way he looked was, in and of itself, no bad thing. It was better than the constant animosity and distrust he was used to from that quarter.

He smiled at the elf and received a grunt in response.

"Let's get going," Fenris said. "With any luck we won't even need the things we've bought."

 _I needed them_ , Anders thought, but he swallowed down the reflection. If by tomorrow he was home and in Hawke's arms and back to himself he likely wouldn't care for the other new clothes. He had a twinge of regret for that - he sometimes wondered if Justice had taken over too much of his life - but it was only a small twinge. He knew the struggle he was engaged in was far more important than any clothes.

Fenris took them across Hightown, heading for the exit by the market - not the most direct root, but he wanted to explore a different part of the undercity to where they had focused their efforts before. As they were crossing the wide-open courtyard in front of the steps to the Viscount's Keep, they were stopped in their tracks by a call.

"Fenris!" The man shouting at them from across the way closed the distance in big, bounding strides. He was tall, and broad, and had a jovial face with a well-trimmed beard.

Fenris stopped and stared at the man.

"Do you know him?" Anders whispered as he approached.

The elf shook his head.

"Haven't seen you in a few days," the man said, his eyes glancing from Fenris to Anders. "I wondered what you were up to when we didn't see you at the Hanged Man," he went on, his eyes now travelling up and down Anders' body, "But I guess now I know." He held out his hand. "Hello, my name's Hawke. I thought I knew all Fenris's friends, but I guess you're different, aren't you?"

Anders blinked. "'Hawke'?" he said. "Your name is Hawke?"

The man smiled broadly. "Mentioned me, has he? We've spent a lot of time together - fighting Tevinter agents, darkspawn in the Deep Roads - general tales of daring do, that sort of thing."

Anders couldn't stop himself from frowning. This didn't make sense. Was this Carver - the Hawke twin who had not survived the escape from Lothering? Marian was the only member of the Hawke family he knew who went by their last name, but maybe if the brother had survived in this world...?

"I'm sorry," he said, "Fenris mentioned several Hawkes - I mean, that he knew your family - but I don't remember entirely... which one are you?"

The man laughed. "Most people just call me 'Hawke'," he shrugged, then tilted his head to the side, a look of interest crossing his face. "But you can call me 'Garrett' if you like."

Anders looked over at Fenris, but his expression was unreadable. 'Garrett' Hawke. Could it be that in this world there was a fourth sibbling? Or, rather more troubling, could this be a world in which Marian did not exist, and this other Hawke had taken her place?

"Hello," Hawke said, drawing his attention back. "What's this?"

Anders stiffened as he felt fingers tracing over the back of his neck, circling the bump where the runed 'rock' lay just beneath the skin.

"Fenris, you saucy dog!" Hawke said, "I didn't know you had it in you! I mean, I had to wonder, from the clothes, but I never really thought you'd be the one to go and get yourself a pleasure slave!"

Anders felt the heat rising in his cheeks at being discovered, although until they'd met this stranger who was both Hawke and not Hawke, he'd tacitly supposed that people would be able to tell what he was by the way he was dressed.

"And, Maker!" Hawke continued on, "I have to say you have good taste. I mean, look at him!"

Without so much as a hesitation, Hawke had lifted one side of the filmy material that made Anders' shirt and slid one hand underneath.

It should have felt invasive, but instead, it was electric. Hawke's hand running across his skin made him shiver with pleasure. He was being appreciated - enjoyed.

"You know, you could practically be a desire demon - you look sinfully good," Hawke said, his fingers tracing lines of sensation up Anders' chest, squeezing a nipple between thumb and forefinger. "Imagine it - you could even pierce his nipples, Fenris."

Fenris surged forward, nearly knocking the larger man from his feet, pushing him back.

Anders was left gasping from the intense pleasure of being caressed followed by the sudden absence of contact.

"Get your hands off him!" Fenris shouted - nearly screamed.

"Whoa - whoa - Fenris, I'm sorry!" Hawke was saying, holding his hands up in submission. "I thought - I mean - you're the one who bought a pleasure slave."

"That does not give you the right to touch him." Fenris's low voice was practically a growl, and his ready stance suggested he might lunge back into the attack at any moment.

"OK, sure, fine. You're right," Hawke said. "I should have asked you first, I just-"

Anders could see Fenris balling his fists and knew if this went any further they risked calling the attention of the guards. He stepped forward and put a hand on the elf's shoulder.

Fenris flinched and immediately span around.

"It's OK," Anders said. "It's OK - I'm fine, really. It was nothing."

"It was _not_ nothing," Fenris spat. "You are not yourself. You do not realise-"

"Look," Hawke said, and Anders could have cursed him for drawing attention to hismelf again. "I didn't mean anything by it. I won't do it again. I'm sorry, Fenris. Really."

"It is not me to whom you should apologise," Fenris said, his voice stilted by rage.

Hawke's eyes flicked from Fenris to Anders. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't catch your name. But I'm sorry. I just got kind of carried away. I never expected Fenris - of all people - to buy a mage, and, to be honest, the last pleasure slave I met, he seemed to like attention. I should have asked first, though. I just... I'm sorry, really."

"It was fine," Anders said. "I didn't mind."

Fenris made a noise of exasperation. "Come, Anders. We're going back to the mansion. _Without_ Hawke." He shot the man a glare, then turned on his heel and began walking.

Bound by magic to obey him, Anders followed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris lets out his frustrations following the interaction with Hawke, then orders Anders to stay in the house for his own protection while he continues to search for the Black Emporium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late again - life is happening at me a lot. Hope you enjoy this chapter - sorry that things are moving so slowly at the moment, but Anders and Fenris both have a lot to learn about their predicament... and each other.

Fenris slammed the door behind them so hard that the paintings of old humans that lined the walls rattled.

"I cannot _believe_ him!" Fenris shouted, crossing to one of the mummified corpses in the main hall and giving it a solid kick that cracked bones and sent a puff of mouldering dust up into the air.

Fenris kicked it again, and then again, shards of bone splintering from the body and skittering across the floor.

"Hey," said Anders. "Hey - hey." He crossed the distance between them. He reached for Fenris's shoulder, then pulled back, remembering his reaction from before. "Fenris," he said instead. "I'm fine. I'm OK. He didn't hurt me and he's not going to."

Fenris span around, fury in his eyes that made Anders start backwards. "You do not _know_ how you are. You think you enjoy this attention, but it isn't _you_ \- it is the thing in your neck. And the other thing. It is what they _did_ to you. And he would have _further_ things d7one to you. He would touch you and pierce you and you would not even _know_ to say no."

Fenris turned away with a cry and gave the corpse a final kick that sent its sightless skull bouncing off the wall and flying across the hall.

And Fenris stood there, his stance still ready to fight, but trembling, his gasped breaths a hair's breadth from sobbing.

And Anders understood. _This is not about me_. _This is about the markings on his skin._

"He's not going to do that, Fenris," he said, gently. "He backed down - really, I think he was just fooling around." Anders felt the ghost of fingers tweaking his nipple as he remembered. It had felt so good to be touched.

"You do not know, you..."

"You wouldn't let him," Anders said, taking a step closer.

Fenris took a few more deep, steadying breaths, then slowly straightened. "No," he said. "I would not." Fenris turned to face him again. "I think it would be best if you stayed here while I continue the search."

"What?"

"It is too dangerous for you, out there," Fenris replied. "Anyone may think they have a right to use you. To touch you. You should stay here."

"What? No, Fenris, that didn't happen yesterday. This was one incident. I'll be fine-"

"Yes, you will," Fenris said, nodding decisively. "Because you will be staying here."

 

***

 

It had been completely winding to find that Fenris could and would order him to stay in the house, even for his own safety. The elf had apologised for it, but had still insisted.

_You do not fully understand yourself. You are in my care - I'm sorry, but I must protect you. I will not be long._

That had been seven hours ago.

Anders had gone through shock and anger and boredom and worry and back to anger again. If Fenris meant to protect him he should not be trying to control him. For all he knew the man could be dead - or imprisoned by Templars. Or captured by this world's Danarius.

And just like that, he was back to worry. There was little else to do when he could not even leave the mansion. Four hours in, he had tried - not entirely clear in his mind whether it was to get something else from the market or to see if he could find word of Fenris, but simply sick of doing make-work around Fenris's house.

He had got to the door. He had been able to open it. But when he considered setting foot outside there fell over him a kind of paralysis.

Not a true paralysis - he still felt all the parts of his body, and in a strange sort of way he still felt like they could be moved... he just could not find it in him to decide to move forward.

Leaving the mansion was not something Fenris had wanted for him, so he struggled to want it for himself.

When he moved away and closed the door, the feeling dissipated, and with renewed frustration, he tried again.

The same blanket of dullness fell over him - a sort of all-encompassing lack of motivation when he considered stepping outside.

Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the matter intellectually, as he had been taught to do as a technique for resisting demons. Perhaps, right now, he did not wish to go outside, but it had been something he's wanted very badly moments before - something he had thought about for much of the day. Whether or not he wanted it now, he owed it to his earlier self, who had invested so much in the thought.

Willing himself to act on behalf of that earlier impulse, he was able to muster a kind of determination that pushed through his lack of motivation in the present, but as he did so, his heart began to race. He was contemplating something very transgressive - disobeying an order, doing something contrary to his master's desires. This, surely, was an action worthy of punishment.

An icy spike of fear cut through him. Almost before he knew what he was doing he had spun around and slammed the door shut.

He had come close - so close. Disobedience. Betrayal. Punishment. An eternity alone in the dark.

Anders struggled to control his breathing. Shuddering and banging his fist against the wall behind him in mixed fear and frustration.

But eventually, he had calmed, wiped tears he hadn't even realised he'd shed from his eyes, and returned to cleaning.

That had become his main displacement activity. Starting with the body Fenris had made a good effort to destroy.

Changing out of his new clothes so as not to dirty them, Anders had grimaced and wrapped as much of the remains as he could in a dust sheet he had found in another room. Gathering it up, he had taken the uncomfortably crunching and rattling remains out to a small yard that lay beyond the kitchen.

He didn't dare burn the body. The smoke and smells of burning human remains were both unpleasant and sure to attract attention. But he could pile the remains under the dust sheet and at least conceal them from sight.

Cleaning up the body Fenris had began by destroying was easy - his master clearly did not care for it and the resultant mess was unsightly - but when he'd turned his eye to the other corpses that littered the house he met with anxiety.

Both his Fenris and the one who lived here had left these bodies to rot in their homes for a purpose. It was disgusting and unsanitary, but it was not Anders' place to gainsay that decision.

Sighing, he followed the path of least resistance and left the bodies where they were, but gathered up more dust-sheets from the abandoned rooms and used them to cover the bodies. At the very least, there was no reason Anders had to keep looking at them. If Fenris came back and objected they could easily be removed.

That done, Anders moved on to more prosaic cleaning: washing the plates and cutlery they had used for breakfast. Dusting and cleaning all the surfaces in the kitchen. Locating a broom and sweeping up the worst of the debris in the hall.

With cleaning in a place like this there was, at least, always something left to do, and as the hours dragged out, it became a way to occupy both his hands and mind.

By the time Fenris finally returned, the place showed remarkable difference, and Anders allowed himself a small amount of pride. He had been able to create a clean and welcoming space for healing in the sewers, there was no good reason to think he should not be able to do the same here.

As the door swung open, Anders' eyes leapt immediately to it - he heart leaping as he saw Fenris's white head emerging around the door.

Intense relief washed over him, briefly obscuring the roiling mess of emotions that had preoccupied him for the last several hours.

"You're back!" he said, setting his broom aside and rushing over.

Fenris nodded, but did not meet his eyes.

"I am sorry," he said, his voice hoarse. "I have searched every part of Darktown I know how to find. There was nothing."

Green eyes met his for a moment and they stared at each other.

"That - that doesn't mean it's not there," Anders said at last. "That's everywhere that _you_ know how to find. I know Darktown far better than you - you should have taken me with you." He wanted to scream that last, but was also deathly afraid of doing so. He would not show the full extent of his anger again, and yet... Fenris could not have wanted him to feel the way his command had hit him. He should know what it had done.

Fenris would want to know, Anders told himself. "Please don't order me to stay home like that again," he said. "You were - you were gone hours and I couldn't leave. I couldn't go look for you. I..." He shook his head and swallowed, struggling to find the words. "I stood at the door and I... couldn't. I just couldn't." A wash of anxiety washed over him again as though he were considering disobeying now, rather than hours ago.

Fenris ducked his head again. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I should not have done that. I wanted to protect you - when I saw how quickly Hawke began touching you - talking about _changing_ you... I am sorry. I could not... I just wanted to keep you away from him. Away from everyone. You shouldn't have to be exposed to that!"

Anders tried to speak calmly. "I understand. I know this can't be... easy for you. But Fenris - what if there had been a fire and I couldn't leave? What if Hawke had come to your house and I couldn't get away. Taking away my freedom is _not_ protecting me."

Fenris closed his eyes and shook his head. "I know," he said, his deep voice cracking with the emotion. "I am sorry. I... wanted to keep you safe - away from this world and it's _disgusting practices_ \- but I... It was wrong. I should not have done it."

A hitch in the elf's breath suggested he was close to tears. It was strange - he had never seen Fenris like this. So vulnerable. As much as the man's arrogance and certainty had grated when he constantly disparaged mages, seeing him like this, now, was unsettling.

Anders pulled the elf into his arms, and was relieved when the man did not resist. "I understand," he said, a hand in Fenris's soft white hair, holding him close to his chest. "I just... please don't do it again."

"I won't," Fenris said, quietly, then pushed back out of Anders' embrace. He opened his mouth as though to say something more, and then shook his head.

He looked about and took in more of the room. A frown creased his brow. "You cleaned," he said.

Anders shrugged. "There wasn't much else to do. Don't worry, your weird dead people collection is still there; I just hid it. Well, except the one you decided to distribute about the room earlier. I dumped that one in the yard."

Fenris was now looking back at him. "And you changed out of your clothes."

Anders flushed. "I didn't want to get them dirty. I'll get changed back now that you're here."

Fenris opened his mouth as though to object, but then shut it and nodded. "If that's what you'd prefer."

Anders flashed him a smile. "It is."

He then retreated to Fenris's room to change, feeling relieved to be back in clean and more flattering clothes.

Dinner was a quiet and mostly solemn affair. Fenris's fruitless quest hung over them. It was looking less and less likely that they would be able to find the Black Emporium and return home that way.

Anders felt Fenris's anxiety as they lay down in bed together that night. The elf seemed taut like a board and he longed to offer to massage some of those troubles away, but knew the offer would not be well received. He wished, too, that he could pull Fenris into his arms and hold him, but the elf had drawn himself away to the far side of the bed, as though to make it clear that they would not be touching.

Anders sighed and focused on emptying this own mind in the hoped of sleep. Strangely, that proved easier now than it ever had been. He should have been as worried as Fenris, but something about just lying down together with the man was a comfort, even if he still refused to touch.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awakening from a wet dream in an embarrassing situation, Anders must 'take care' of himself. Afterwards, Anders and Fenris speculate about what may have become of their counterparts in this world, and what this might mean for their next steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late, but moving closer to back on schedule. A little something racy at the beginning of the chapter, followed by some discussion that will hopefully start to answer some of the questions people have asked in the comments...

Fenris's fingers trailed up along his body, leaving delicious tingles in their wake. His lithe and tightly muscled form hovered above Anders, shimmering lyrium lines accentuating the dips and mounds of skin that begged to be touched. Anders traced one with his fingers and looked up into deep green eyes and an answering smile that was all the reward that was needed - to know that he was appreciated, that Fenris was pleased.

And then Fenris's hand on his side flattened to a palm pressing down and rubbing firmly. Anders wriggled with pleasure at the wash of sensation, his cock now throbbing and hard. Had sex ever been like this? He'd had good sex - alive with passion, enlivened by the thrill of attraction, excited by furtive fumbles in the dark, knowing you might get caught at any time... But now his body was so responsive. Every touch was deepened, every intimate thrill seeming to cut right through him. And the knowledge that he was doing well, doing what he was supposed to...

A shift in the bed brought Anders back to consciousness.

He was not sharing an intimate moment with Fenris in the preamble to sex. He was pulled up tight against him again, his hard and throbbing cock nestled against Fenris's buttocks.

Fenris who was now very stiff in his arms and very clearly awake and uncomfortable.

Anders rolled away, all too conscious of his stupid solid cock pointing upright under the covers.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, covering his face with his hands as though that would somehow hide the shame of having pressed himself against a man who didn't want him. "I was dreaming. I didn't mean..."

"You do not need to apologise, mage," Fenris said. He sat up, revealing the firm muscles of his back, which Anders longed to touch - the palpable attraction he felt making him all the more aware of his shame. "I will give you some privacy." The elf said, and, scooping up his shirt from the ground, he left.

Anders felt like he'd never been so embarrassed in his life. Or so rejected. Fenris knew that he wanted him, had fantastised about him, damn near frotted against his buttocks in his sleep. And the man had left without so much as a look over his shoulder.

Some part of Anders recognised that Fenris was doing the decent thing, but his frustration with the continued rejection was growing, and the dream vision of Fenris smiling and running his hands over Anders' body was all too near and clear in his mind.

With shame and desire, Anders pulled back the covers and laid a firm hand around his aching cock. He grunted at the welcome sensation and reached his other hand down to massage his balls, lift them, gently roll them with his fingers. He moaned at the well of heat and the renewed throbbing that followed, and as he ran his hand up his cock, his thumb tracing over the head, he imagined it was Fenris gripping him, pulling on him, rubbing his balls.

Anders let out a deep breath as the image raised a shiver of _want_ within him. Really, he knew he should be the one pleasing Fenris, but it was harder to imagine that when the body parts being manipulated were his own. It was still good - to imagine that Fenris wanted him, wanted to _do_ things to him. As he had in his dream.

He imagined the man leaning over him again, smiling his oh-so-rare but beautiful and _fucking_ naughty smile, then sliding down his body. Burying his nose in the pubic hair at Anders' crotch and inhaling. Smelling him. Kissing him down there. Fenris's tongue tracing up his cock - imagined in time to the movement  of Anders' hand. Fenris going down on him, swallowing him whole as he wrapped his fingers around his member and pulled to the tip. Wishing his hand wasn't so dry as to give lie to the fantasy, but too deep in desire now to care. Needing so badly to get off, pumping steadily harder as his dick throbbed and blood rushed south and the sensations became more and more intense until -

With a grunt, Anders found his release, spurting come into the air and collapsing back on the bed, panting.

His orgasm helped, but it wasn't truly satisfying.

It wasn't himself he ought to be pleasuring. He needed to please Fenris.

And Fenris didn't want him.

 

***

 

A breakfast waited for Anders when he descended - dressed today in the green sheer shirt Fenris had purchased for him. He had done his best to clean up, but the shame of masturbating in Fenris's bed while the man politely absented himself lingered.

He thanked Fenris for the bread and jam without meeting his eyes. He'd hoped to make it through breakfast in silence, but the taste of ripe apricots on fluffy white bread took him by surprise. He moaned involuntarily, rolling the the food around in his mouth - the texture of the refined grain exquisite, the thin slices of candied peel in the jam making a pleasing contrast to the jellied smoothness and...

And he stopped. Swallowed. Hated himself a little bit more.

"Sorry," he said, quietly. "It took me by surprise. I..."

"You do not need to apologise," Fenris said.

Anders' eyes flicked up in irritation before he could check himself. "Stop saying that," he snapped, then quickly modulated his tone. "It _is_ weird. I know this... _all_ of this, is making you uncomfortable. Let me say I'm sorry so I can move past it, I..." he looked away, running out of words.

He shouldn't be haranguing Fenris about this - the man was behaving far better, and far more honourably, than he'd ever have expected.

"It didn't mean to make it harder for you," Fenris said, his deep voice cutting through Anders' guilt and anxiety. "I... will try to find other words in future. Forgive me. I am... unused to giving reassurance. I just wanted you to know that you do not need to feel embarrassed. That I understand - none of this is your fault."

Anders took a deep breath and tried to sigh out the confused emotions that were roiling around in him. "There's nothing to forgive," he said at last. "I guess I'm not quite sure how to deal with this either. I feel like I'm constantly being wrong-footed by my own body."

"I understand," Fenris said, and the sincerity in his voice made Anders look up. Long, elven fingers absentmindedly rubbed up a line of lyrium at his neck. "My memories of receiving the markings are painful, but unclear. I remember nothing before that. But immediately after... it was confusing. I was in pain, and I felt weak," he admitted, looking out the dusty kitchen window, "But also impossibly strong. I had nothing to compare it with, and yet it seemed unfamiliar. I constantly misjudged myself - even before I discovered that my flesh could phase through solid objects." He looked back at Anders, giving a rare smile. "I believe it was an unnerving time for my handlers."

Anders laughed. "I suppose it would have been."

He sighed and leaned back, thinking about how strange it would be to wake up and find oneself so completely changed - and about how similar and dissimilar that was from his own situation. "Do you suppose it was the same for him? The other Fenris, I mean. The one who lives here. Hawke didn't seem surprised by your markings, so I guess that must be the same. And he said something about Tevinter agents. Seemed surprised that you would take a slave. It sounds like he's pretty similar to you."

Fenris shrugged, finishing a mouthful of bread. "Yes, I thought the same. And although things are not exactly as I left them in the mansion, I noticed immediately that they were very similar."

Anders thought of his own awakening in Darktown. No clinic. None of his things. The whole area altogether more destitute and hopeless. "There's no one like me, here," he said, then sighed. "But I suppose that's not very surprising. I think... I think it's much harder to be an apostate here. From what I overheard in the Circle, and what it says in that book, it's not just the rocks that are different. Templars have a way of locating unrocked mages - the unrestrained magic makes us very easy to detect. Some Templars can sense the presence of magic in our own world, but I think this is much more than that. They found me almost instantly.

"Imagine it," he said, meeting Fenris's eyes. "Little twelve-year old Anders, not just getting sent off to the Circle because he set the barn on fire, but being found almost the very moment his magic manifested. And then it's just a quick operation and I'm done for. No escape attempts. You just had to tell me to stay in the house and I couldn't leave... could barely even think about it without breaking into a sweat." He looked down again at his bread and shuddered. "I never would have left the Circle. Never joined the Wardens. Certainly never would have come to Kirkwall." The thought was more than frightening. Not simply facing punishment for rebelling, but not being able to rebel at all. "I'm not even sure I could have lived with that," he said.

Then he smiled bitterly. "But perhaps they can stop you from taking that exit with these rocks, too."

Fenris was not smiling when Anders met his eyes.

"Sorry," he said. "That was maudlin. I'm probably fine. They always liked that I was a Spirit Healer. I'm not sure if that would work with these things," he rubbed the lump in his neck. "Can't say I've tried anything big that I'd need to reach out to a spirit for, but even creation magic is pretty valued. I'm probably in a cushy position healing some noble's warts or something."

Unmentioned between then lay the possibility that a young Anders was just as likely to have caught their eye with his pretty face as an older one. His mind shied away from that thought. He liked sex. A lot. But to do it without choice - would they have set him to it as young as twelve? If not, when would the training have started?

Fenris cleared his throat, and Anders realised he didn't want to hear whatever bumbling words of comfort he might try and fail to offer.

"Anyway," Anders said, perhaps too loudly. "The real question is _where are you_? If you woke up in his bed and he hasn't been seen since you got here, where is he? I mean, you. I mean, the you who lives here."

Fenris was silent for a few moments, perhaps adjusting to the about-face in conversation. Then he shrugged and said. "I had supposed that was obvious. Surely he travelled to our world when I was pulled through here."

Anders stared at him for some moments. "'Obvious,'" he said. "That never even occurred to me."

"Well," Fenris said, frowning. "We did not simply appear in this world's Black Emporium - or where the Emporium should have been - I appeared in bed. In my home. I suppose it seemed reasonable that I might have appeared where he had been."

Anders shook his head. "No, that doesn't make sense. I appeared where the clinic should have been, but it's quite clear that there had been no Anders there."

Their met eyes, and it hung in the air between them that it might well be that in this world there was no Anders anywhere. Neither voiced the thought.

"Perhaps we were merely called to the places we thought of as home, then, and the actual place did not relate to our counterparts here," Fenris said, moving the conversation on. "It still seems to me that as I am here and he is not - but he clearly was until a few days ago - the most reasonable explanation is that I have exchanged places with him."

Anders stared. That did make a kind of sense, but it opened up so many possibilities he wasn't sure he wanted to think about.

Was there now a clueless and defenceless 'rocked' version of himself wandering about the Ferelden countriside - or being interrogated by Templars? What might this world's version of Fenris be doing in Kirkwall right now? Might he have made touch with Hawke? Might they be looking for a way to send him back? If they succeeded in sending that Fenris back, would that leave him, Anders, stranded in this place because there was no corresponding Anders here to swap with?

Surely not, but the prospect was certainly worrying.

"It's possible he's found his way to our Hawke," Fenris went on, echoing Anders' thoughts, "She may yet be working to get us back. I've been thinking," he said, "maybe there isn't a Black Emporium here, but perhaps the Esorekt also remained in Kirkwall. Then all we would really need might be for Hawke to find it and my counterpart to operate it."

"I don't think it would be that simple, Fenris," Anders said, a creeping sort of dread growing. "We still don't really know what made that thing work for us when it hadn't worked for the urchin. Maybe it needed both of us - some combination of lyrium in the presence of a spirit? If so, it might not work for anyone back home. And if it did... what if it only sent _him_ back and _you_ away. What if it left me stranded here?"

Fenris's face went still - a mask that hid emotion, but which Anders was starting to realise was a kind of tell of its own. The prospect worried Fenris, too. "Well," he said. "We cannot know that. We should not expect anything specific. But I think we should prepare for the prospect that it might not be as easy for us to return as we first thought. If there is a Black Emporium here, it does not seems to be simply a matter of searching Darktown to find it. We should focus on what we can do for _you_ for now."

"For me?" Anders said.

"Yes," Fenris said, decisively. "You should not be a slave. Perhaps there is a way to free you. At the very least, it seems clear to me that you should not be a pleasure slave. The man in the market said that your reaction the day we first arrived suggests they should have been more careful with you. Perhaps there is some allowance for that in the law. Perhaps I can make an appeal to the Viscount - at least to have the - uh - the lower rock removed."

Anders' eyebrows shot up. "Do you really think it would be that simple? Fenris, we don't know anything about their laws, but if they're anything like home, I doubt the Viscount has much sway over the Circle, and I can't see the Chantry or the Templars being much help. I don't want to end up back in the Circle, I-"

"You won't," Fenris promised. "That is why I want to talk to the Viscount in the first instance. If he says no, he says no. But I think we should try."

A deep knot of worry settled in Anders' stomach.

Fenris seemed to sense his concern, but spoke confidently. "We must try. Even in Tevinter a master can free his slave if he wants to. There must be circumstances in which that is possible here."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Fenris go to the Viscount's Keep in search of help, and meet someone else the know...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late, but I'm hoping I'll be able to post more regularly from now on.
> 
> I've added the slow burn tag as even though the situation puts sexual tension on the table fairly early on, it will be quite a while before our boys get it together and I felt like the tags should reflect that. This is the first thing I've written that even approaches a slow burn so I've been hesitating about whether it applied for a while now, but I think it does.

Walking out into the city on the third day since his enchantment, Anders was more... conscious of Fenris, somehow.

He'd never noticed before how gracefully Fenris moved. When he was not bent-kneed and waiting for battle, he was surprisingly tall for an elf, and the combination of packed muscle on such a slender frame gave off an air of contained power that was entirely separate to the magic of his markings.

The pristine white of his hair could have made the man look prematurely old, but Fenris, Anders now realised, was careful to keep it in order. He bathed quickly and efficiently, but every day, and though Anders had tried not to be overt in watching him, he had caught the elf taking careful time to arrange it as it dried.

And it was worth it. His hair was beautiful. Anders longed to run his fingers through it - was fascinated by the place where it parted to admit his pointed ears.

Every little detail of Fenris was thrown in sharp relief. Anders noticed, as he never had before, how large the man's pores were - but the dimpling didn't mar his brown skin, it added character. Especially along his cheekbones and underneath his large green eyes.

He tried not to stare. He didn't want to make Fenris uncomfortable. But the man was... beautiful. Exquisite.

Being near him made Anders' heart flutter. His presence seemed vibrate in the air between them. Any chance meeting of their eyes made him want to smile.

It felt a lot like falling in love.

Anders worked hard to not let it show. To not walk too close. Not look too much. But he was very thankful that Fenris had agreed to take him along to the Viscount's Keep, even though he knew the day was likely to hold many awkward conversations in which people talked about him as though he wasn't even there.

 

***

 

 The inside of the keep was no different to what Fenris remembered from their world, except on one point. The mages. There weren't many, but they were here. None were dressed like Anders - they all wore the somber robes of a circle mage like most would in their version of Kirkwall. But mages were almost never permitted to enter the Viscount's Keep; not without hiding what they were.

These mages didn't hide. But they all wore collars, and as he paused at the entrance, Fenris caught Anders rubbing his neck out of the corner of his eye.

A spurt of anger rose in Fenris as he recalled the feel of leather around his own neck. Or heavy iron, which became scorching hot in the Minrathos sun and was only used when he was being punished.

"You will never wear one of those," Fenris muttered tersely.

Anders nodded, but said nothing.

Anxious not to draw attention by standing and gawping, Fenris strode on, heading up the stairs in long, confident strides, straight for the Viscount's office. He could feel the mutters around him and the eyes on him. He suspected that elves were not treated with any greater respect here than they were at home. His presence might still be more controvesial that Anders'.

Seneschal Bran made for a familar face featuring a familiar contempt at the top of the stairs.

"The Viscount is busy today, and tomorrow, and for the rest of the week," Bran said, before Fenris could even open his mouth. "Please take your... companion," his eyes flicked to Anders with disdain, "back to the alienage, you can have no business here."

The Seneschal's tone fanned the flames of Fenris's anger. He stilled his face and straightened his back. "I do not live in the alieanage, serrah, and I will not be put off for a week, or even a day. My busiess is urgent and must be addressed."

Bran made the sigh of one who must say the same thing over and over again, day in, day out. "I don't care where you're from, Serrah Elf, the Viscount is busy with matters of _state_. Whatever your issue, however urgent it seems to you, it cannot be addressed _today_. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Fenris had heard steps on the stairs behind him, but had not expected the person to whom they belonged. She was just exactly as she had always been.

Aveline stepped forward, drawing the Seneschal's attention. "Seneschal Bran, is there a problem?"

The slightest crack in his unflustered facade.

"Guard Captain, how nice to see you. I was just explaining to these two... men... that there is simply no possibility of the Viscount seeing them today."

Aveline met Fenris's eyes and raised her eyebrows. "Is it urgent, Fenris?"

The relief he felt at her recognition was unexpected. After the meeting with Hawke, it was not really surprising that others of their friends would recognise him, and yet, it was reassuring all the same. As though he and Anders were less alone in this strange place.

"Yes, it is urgent," Fenris said. "This needs to be dealt with today."

Bran sighed again. "Captain, I know you understand the pressures the Viscount is under. If you think that you can pull rank on behalf of your friend, then you are-"

"I would never presume, Seneschal Bran," Aveline said. "But perhaps I could talk this matter through with Fenris and see if it really is something worth disturbing the Viscount for. It might be that we can find some other solution without taking up any more of your time - I know how busy you are."

The Seneschal looked relieved. "Yes, Aveline, if you could find time to take this matter off my hands I would be supremely grateful."

"Of course," Aveline said, inclining her head. She caught Fenris's eye again briefly as she turned and walked away.

"Unbelievable," someone muttered as they descended the stairs. "I've been waiting all day! It's all about who you know."

Aveline set a quick pace, marching them without discussion into her office, then turned to face them.

"What is this, Fenris?" she said after closing the door. "If it really is urgent, why didn't you bring Hawke? After rescuing the Viscount's son he has Dumar's ear for just about anything."

"I... would prefer not to involve Hawke," Fenris said, looking down and scratching one of his feet against the back of his leg. She was right, of course. If this were _their_ Kirkwall, he would have gone straight to Hawke. And it was intriguing to know that events were parallel enough that the Viscount here had also had his son kidnapped, and that Hawke had again led the party to 'rescue' the boy. Although of course, in their world the kidnapping had proved to be rather more than it seemed, and they knew little about the circumstances here.

She sighed and sat down on the edge of her desk. "It has something to do with him, I take it?" She nodded at Anders, but not in a way that suggested any kind of recognition.

He exchanged a glance with Anders and read anxiety in the look. He should tread carefully. They had not discussed how much they should reveal about their situation to the counterparts of their friends, although they had agreed that in general it would be best not to start spouting nonsense about being from another world that could get them both in trouble.

Fenris decided to err on the side of caution. They really knew very little about this world's Aveline. A surface similarity in appearance and manner did not mean she could be trusted. He would go with the story they had agreed to give to the Viscount.

"His name is Anders. He is a slave," Fenris admitted,

"Yes," she said evenly, "I can see that."

"He was an apostate until three days ago. I saw them capture him," Fenris went on.

Some kind of understanding crossed her face. "I see."

"I could not allow him to be taken captive like that. Not when he had known freedom," Fenris avoided her eyes as he mixed lies with truth. "I went immediately to the Gallows, but they had already... 'rocked'," he stumbled over the word, distasteful in his mouth, "him. Not... not just as a slave They... have rocked him for pleasure." Fenris could not repress a shudder.

When he looked up, Aveline was looking at him with sympathy. "Fenris, I know this is difficult for you. That you've struggled with mixed feelings about the conditions of our mages here, but we've talked about this. You cannot simply 'free' them." Her eyes flicked to Anders. "Did he take you from the Circle, serrah?"

Anders looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Yes," he said, "But I suspect not quite as you mean."

"I bought him," Fenris said.

Aveline's lips narrowed to a thin line. "And you thought, what? That you could just march up here and ask the Viscount to free him? You know that won't work."

Her look of understanding mixed with pity was hard to take. "Not entirely," Fenris said. "I... understand that it may not be a simple matter in terms of just letting him walk free, but... he should not have been given the second rock," Fenris said decisively. "He has not ben raised to this. He has not been trained for this. He has lived his entire life on the run. He had not been in my company for a day before the 'punishment' that thing laid on him knocked him out cold. And now he is filled with these unnatural urges. To do things he does not want to do. It isn't right. You must see that."

Anders was rubbing his neck again, and Aveline's eyes went to him.

"I am sorry, serrah, that must be very difficult," she said.

Anders pulled a face, but said nothing.

"Fenris," she said, looking back at him. "You know there's nothing that I can do about this. There's nothing the Viscount can do about this. He can't be freed. Even if we could remove the rocks his connection to the Fade would be shining out like a lighthouse for the Templars to find him. Even if the Viscount gave a decree that he was not to be returned to the Circle - which he won't - this man would be harrassed wherever he went, and likely not all Templars would respect the Viscount's authority. And really, Fenris, he has none. Not over the Chantry. You know that. This... this was reckless. I'm sure you felt like it was the right thing, but you've only made matters worse.

She sighed. "I fully understand that you would not want to use him as a pleasure slave, but..." she grimaced but went on. "You should sell him to someone who will. It will go very badly for him if he is not taken care of, and I'm not sure I could shield you from the consequences of that. One of the few things the Viscount _can_ do is come down harshly on the mistreatment of slaves, and he does."

Her tone was so reasoned, so sympathetic, but her words... He had never had a sense that Aveline would condone slavery. Her unwavering moral centre was one of the things Fenris had always liked about her. And yet... here she was. Saying there was nothing she could do.

"Aveline," he said, "I am not saying the Viscount should free him. But at the very least - an apostate like this - put to such purposes. There _has_ to be a line beyond which that is considered inappropriate. Even here. There should be... humane barriers, to using someone like that. To instilling these drives. For sex. It has been three days. I had thought I would find a solution, but..." But this morning Anders had lain against him, his cock pressed against Fenris's buttocks, moaning in his sleep. And he saw how the mage now looked at him. He did not know how much longer he could bear it.

Aveline looked down at her hands. Shook her head. "There should be. I think in Fereldan there are some limitations. But the Chantry is too powerful here. Fenris," she looked up into his eyes. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but Dumar does as much as he dares. Even now, Meredith puts pressure on him to reduce the sentences for those who mistreat their mages. He can't just... free a mage on your whim. Or even ask for his designation to be changed. I'm sorry," she addressed Anders now, "I really am. But Kirkwall is not a good city for mages."

Anders took a deep breath... and sighed it out, saying nothing.

It was a disquieting habit the man had developed over the last few days. In the past, such words as Aveline had just given would have set the mage off in a furious rant. But he held his breath and looked away. He didn't want to answer. He didn't want to say anything too angry. Anything that might get him punished.

Fenris felt fury settle like hot metal in his stomach. "'Sorry.' That is all you have to say."

"Fenris," she said, sensing his anger and standing up straight. "If you want to help this man there are things you can do - just not in the Viscount's Keep. Take him to Rivain. They free mages there. There are people who can remove the rocks and they don't force their mages into Circles. Isabella has connections. She can find you a boat. But you can't send a pleasure slave out on the ocean alone - he will need help and without you there to protect him people will take advantage, and it won't even relieve the pressure. You would have to go with him. _You cannot help him here_.

"So. You have to take responsibility for what you've done and decide: you can sell him to someone who will take care of him, or you can leave Kirkwall, abandon your quest for vengeance, and take him somewhere that he can be safe." She had folded her arms across her chest, flat green eyes giving no quarter.

There would be no help here.

 

***

 

Outside, in the cool shade of the columns that lined the way to the Viscount's Keep, they paused.

Anders had wrapped his arms about himself, a finger tracing into the slit that ran down the outside of his sleeve from shoulder to wrist.

"I don't want to go see Isabela," he said.

"No," Fenris said. "Clearly Rivain is not a solution."

Anders pursed his lips and shook his head. "No. I mean I don't want to see Isabela like this. It's bad enough having Aveline look at me like I'm not quite fully human, I don't want to see Isabela like this. I don't want her to put her hands all over me - and you know she would!"

Fenris frowned. "You said you didn't mnd when Hawke..."

"I know what-" Anders snapped, then modulated his tone, not meeting Fenris's eyes. "I know what I said, I just... talking to Aveline, I realised that I really don't want to know how many of my friends won't see me as a full person anymore. I just don't want to know. And Isabela... she'd be..." he trailed off and shook his head.

"She might surprise you," Fenris said. "She has no tolerance for slavery in our world - she freed a boatload of slaves herself, at great personal cost. And unless I am mistaken, Aveline was implying that such behaviour is not unheard of for her here either. Likely, you would not be the first mage she has taken to Rivain."

"I'm not going to Rivain!"

Fenris hesitated. Anders was clearly upset, but it was hard to know how to soothe him. "No," Fenris affirmed quietly. "You are not. And if we cannot get the rocks removed here, I will find a way to get you home before they become an issue."

Anders laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "This is the third day, Fenris. I don't know if you remember what your book said, but we're on a schedule. Things will get... uncomfortable for me soon. I don't want to find out quite what that means, I-"

"Anders," he said, keeping his voice soft, but cutting through the man's words with the use of his name. "I promise, I will fix this for you. This was just one avenue. There are others."

Anders shook his head, a naked sadness in his eyes that had been hidden before. "Like what? We can't find the Black Emporium. We can't remove the rocks..."

"We can't find the Black Emporium ourselves," Fenris said. "But that doesn't mean all hope is lost. Perhaps the shop is somwhere else, or perhaps, when the Avvar trader came to Kirkwall, he sold his wares somewhere else. This is a city with many layers - I'm sure that's as true here as at home. We just need to help navigating them."

Anders looked unconvinced. "From who?"

"I think we should talk to Varric," Fenris replied.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Anders meet up with Varric, who offers to help. Anders' desires for Fenris continue to grow and an incident in Lowtown leaves them both unsettled. Things come to a head as the end of Anders' third day under the enchantment draws to a close...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit late again, but a lot needed to happen in this chapter and it took a bit of editing, too. That does mean it's longer than usual, though, so I hope you don't mind too much!

Entering the Hanged Man as an enchanted pleasure slave was a surreal experience. Anders felt simultaneously over and under dressed. His clothes were much too fine - too well made - clearly a Highhtown purchase... but there also weren't enough of them. He felt as though everyone's eyes were on him, and few even bothered to disguise their leers.

A middle-aged human woman stuffed into a too-small leather vest gave a low whistle as they passed. "Where'd you manage to get your hands on _that,_ elfy?"

A glare from Fenris made her shrug and look away, but her sentiment was written in many eyes.

It was humiliating... and gratifying. He was desired. His presence inspired jealousy - gave his master status. He was proud.

And sick to his stomach.

Knowing that so much of what he felt came from the enchantment didn't make the feelings go away.

Thankfully, they met no one they knew in that wide-open space, and Fenris walked him swiftly to the back rooms in search of Varric.

The dwarf was in the same suite he rented in their own world, sitting in an armchair and scribbling in a notebook with a half-drunk glass of ale on the table in front of him. He looked up at their approach, smiling when he saw Fenris, his expression melting into one of wary curiosity as he regarded Anders.

"Well, hello there, Broody," he said. "Why don't you and your friend come in and take a seat?"

Fenris nodded and took one of the other chairs around the small table, motioning Anders to do the same.

Varric's gaze followed Anders. "You look like a man with an interesting tale," Varric said.

Anders laughed, surprised to be addressed with a genuine interest that had nothing to do with sex. "I suppose I do."

Varric's eyes flicked to Fenris. "Do I have to worry about angry Templars or a disgruntled owner?"

Fenris looked at him flatly for a moment, then, with the merest hint of a raised eyebrow, said, "No, I believe _I_ am the disgruntled owner."

Varric's eyes opened wide and he looked between them again. "An interesting tale indeed." He frowned and set his notebook aside. "OK, Broody, why don't you get us a round of drinks so we can all settle in for it. I suspect your friend would welcome one."

Fenris tensed, his eyes meeting Anders'.

"Don't bristle, Broody," Varric said, waving a hand. "I'm not gonna touch your boy here. You know my heart belongs to Bianca."

Slowly, Fenris nodded and stood. "I will not be long," he said as he moved past, past Anders - so close Anders could feel the heat of his body.

Varric's eyes followed the elf as he left the room and he cocked his head, listening as the Fenris's steps faded, then he sat forward, looking at Anders in earnest.

"You don't know me, Blondie," he said, the familiar nickname making Anders shiver, "But you can trust me. If you want to stay with Fenris - if you think you can trust _him_ \- then that's fine, we'll sit here, have a few beers together and we'll talk about whatever brought you two here together. But if you _don't_ want to stay, let me know and I _will_ help. However I can.

"I have a friend who can get cargo to Rivain - she's been known to help the odd person find their way there from time to time." He looked Anders up and down - not a leer, but an assessment. "I'm guessing a journey like that might be more complicated for you, but if you want out _I will_ help you find a way."

Anders sat back, absorbing that speech. "Wow," he said. "I think that's the most anyone's said to me in three days, excluding Fenris. Umm, thank you."

Varric was still looking at him earnestly.

"It's OK," he said, smiling to try to relieve the tension. "I don't want to go to Rivain. Fenris is trying to help."

Varric let out a long breath and sank back into his chair. "Well, that's a relief. I didn't take Broody for the type to keep a man against his will. But then, I didn't take him for a slave owner either. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Anders laughed. "No, thank you," he said. "It was... refreshing."

Varric grinned back. "So, why don't you make a start on that interesting tale?"

Anders reached up to rub the back of his neck - a nervous habit he couldn't seem to stop himself developing. The small lump that was the rock in his neck stood out against his fingers.

"Well," he said. "Until three days ago, I was a free man."

Varric blinked. "An apostate. Impressive! What brings you to Kirkwall? If I were you, this is the last place I'd want to be."

Anders shifted uncomfortably. They'd planned for Fenris to do most of the talking and to say as little as possible about the whys and wherefores of how a free mage could have got into the middle of this city undetected. "I thought I could help a friend," he hedged, drawing on his real past, "I was wrong."

Varric nodded in sympathy, and fortunately Fenris arrived before he could press Anders further. The elf set the drinks down smoothly with his customary grace, and Anders breathed in as he passed, filling his nose with Fenris's heady scent and wishing he could reach out and touch him.

Their eyes met as he sat, and Anders read a question there. "I'm fine," he said. "Varric was just getting me alone to see if I wanted to escape from you."

Anders couldn't help but smirk at the consternation in both their faces.

"I am _not_ keeping him as a slave," Fenris protested. "I have come to you for _help_."

Varric laughed. "Good. But you shouldn't be surprised if I have questions when you walk in here and tell me that you own someone!"

"I only bought him to get him out of the Circle!" Fenris exclaimed, and Anders realised that his ears had gone an adorable shade of pink. "I didn't realise what they had done to him - not completely. That they had - that they..."

"That they made me a sex slave," Anders said, and actually found himself giggling when Fenris put his head in his hands from embarrassment. Varric was still smiling, but he was giving Anders a funny look that only made him laugh again.

Somehow talking to Varric, even just for a few minutes, had made him feel normal in a way he hadn't in days. He didn't even fear punishment - he could feel the way Varric had made Fenris relax as well, even as he teased him.

"Sorry," Anders said, mastering his laughter. "It's been a while since I had a good laugh."

"I can imagine," Varric said. "But come on - what brings you to me? If you wanted to get him out of Kirkwall you'd be better off talking to Isabela. She doesn't make a noise about it, but I know for a fact she's helped at least three mages escape the city."

That took the wind out of Anders a bit. _Three, only three_. How many had he and Justice helped escape from Kirkwall over the years? Dozens, at least. And at that thought, another pang: Justice. How was he bearing being walled off from the rest of Anders' mind? Could he see and feel what was going on? Or was he not only trapped but blind and alone?

"We don't want to escape the city," Fenris said, cutting through Anders' thoughts. "Not yet. Anders has only been under the enchantment of these... _rocks_ for three days. He has not yet been violated; I would like to ensure that he remains free of at least that. He would not survive a trip to Rivain or anywhere else without, ah, without needing..."

Varric cleared his throat. "It's OK, Broody, I get the picture. How exactly do you think you're going to get around that particular issue?"

"There is an object that I believe may be able to provide a kind of solution. It is called an 'Esorekt', have you heard of such a thing?"

Varric looked mystified and shook his head.

Fenris pressed on. "It is an Avvar device. I have reason to believe such an item was sold by a trader to someone in the city. Have you heard of a place called the Black Emporium?"

Varric narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Sure, Broody," he admitted. "I'm surprised to hear you have, though."

 

***

 

It turned out Varric did not know the whereabouts of the Black Emporium. That shop had a select clientele and secretive presence in their own world, but it seemed that Xenon was even more reclusive here. Varric knew very little about the place and hadn't been entirely sure that it existed, but he'd agreed to tap all his connections for any word before they left. He understood the urgency.

He had also pressed them to talk to Isabela about a possible escape route, at least as a back-up, and Anders wondered more than once if they should tell him the truth - that they wanted to escape to somewhere both closer and farther away than Rivain. But there was no way to consult with Fenris, and they had agreed beforehand that even if they could trust Varric, their tale was outlandish enough without adding travel between worlds.

They spent the afternoon exploring Lowtown. While they hoped Varric could lead them to the Black Emporium, kicking their heels waiting for that to happen was unappealing. If they could stumble on the place themselves, so much the better.

The layout of Lowtown's winding streets was not so very different from home, and the alienage was barely different at all. Anders had not wanted to linger there. His initial reluctance had been a fear of meeting Merrill, but when Fenris pointed out how unlikely that was in this world, the elven slums held a whole other kind of dread. The girl was naive and her dabbling in blood magic foolhardy in the extreme, but he didn't want to think of her enslaved, unquestioning, controlled.

Perhaps she would have remained with her clan. Perhaps her clan would never have ventured so close to Kirkwall in this world. But what then? Should he hope for a world in which elves were pushed even farther from their ancestral homes and holy sites?

So many questions, none with good answers. They hadn't stayed long.

The main difference in the rest of Lowtown was the mages. Few here were dressed as well as Anders, and many more wore collars - some were even led about on leads. He caught Fenris several times opening and closing his fists as though to contain a rage. When the elf abruptly diverted his path to avoid these groups, Anders made no complaint.

He also experienced more of the leers he'd had directed his way in the Hanged Man. Anders had passed virtually unnoticed in Hightown, with the exception of the Viscount's Keep, in which it was clear that a number of people felt a slave of _his sort_ did not belong. By contrast, in Lowtown he was the subject of wolf-whistles and open gawping. Several men and women made lewd comments, and some remarked on how strange it was to see an elf with a mage who looked _like that_.

As they stopped for a moment, waiting for a large group of rowdy sailors to pass, Anders felt a hand press firmly against one of his buttocks, squeezing into the flesh. "You belong with someone better than this knife-ear trash." The voice of a man, close enough to his ear for Anders to feel his breath. He shivered with both repugnance and pleasure at the attention.

Before Anders could move, the hand was gone, and Fenris had a tall bald human shoved against the wall, one gauntleted hand around his neck.

"Hey, hey, easy there, elf," the man said, raising his hands and not, to Anders' mind, sufficiently concerned about the situation he was in. "I'll buy him off you, and I'll pay you what he's worth, too. You can get three well-trained elves for the price of a man like that."

Fenris's eyes narrowed and Anders caught hold of his free hand as it began to draw back. "Fenris, no - we don't need the trouble."

The man - curse his idiotic smugness - actually laughed. "That's right, elf, it's not worth the trouble. And I have good money."

Fenris moved fast, ripping through Anders' grip. The man was screaming and clutching his nose in pain, blood streaming down his face, before Anders had even processed what had happened.

The market around them fell into a temporary lull, faces turned their way and stared.

"He touched my mage," Fenris said, meeting their looks with a flat glare.

No one moved to gainsay him.

"Yeah," a burly man at a nearby stall said, folding his arms spitting on the floor. "I saw it. Elf was minding his own business. Loat had it coming."

'Loat' looked daggers at them, but the other man's word seemed to carry weight. He slunk away, and the crowd closing around him.

Fenris asked pulled Anders swiftly off into a side-street "Are you alright?" he asked, large green eyes meeting his with intensity. Anders dearly wished he could pull the man to him - close those eyes with a deep kiss. As intrusive as it had been on one level, the stranger's touch had ignited the desire that simmered in him for Fenris's attention.

But Fenris didn't want that, and they shouldn't get distracted. "I'm fine," he said, "but we were lucky. What if there had been guards nearby?"

Fenris looked nonplussed. "I will not apologise for defending you."

"I'm not asking you to," Anders said. "Just... be careful. I can deal with a little groping."

Something flashed in Fenris's eyes, but he said nothing. He looked away and swallowed before speaking. "Perhaps we should stick to less crowded ways," he said. "I don't think we're likely to find the Black Emporium or the Esorekt in Lowtown Market anyway."

Anders shrugged, "I suppose not."

Fenris nodded and led the way, further into Lowtown's back alleys.

The rest of the afternoon was less eventful. When they did stray into more crowded areas, Anders caught more than one person giving Fenris a wary glance, and he received fewer comments than before. Perhaps word had spread about the grumpy elf and how protective he was of his slave. Anders felt a secret pride to see Fenris so respected, and to be protected by him.

Sadly, they had no more joy in their search than they had before.

The walk back to Hightown was hot and sweaty. Watching Fenris's back as they climbed one of several flights of stairs, Anders wondered how he could stand it in the black leather of his armour. He had a momentary fantasy of helping the warrior remove it, pressing his nose to the nape of Fenris's neck and sucking on the warm salt of his skin - fingers tracing up into fine white hair and tongue running along the edge of his ear until-

No. He pulled back from those thoughts. The last thing he needed was wood between his legs as he climbed interminable flights of stairs.

And yet... his mind settled so easily into those pathways now. His eyes sought Fenris out - the hard shapes of his muscles under his armour, and the sensitive, softer places - the points of his ears, the nape of his neck. The musky scent of Fenris in the air seemed to surround him.

Anders longed so badly to touch. Fenris had seemed reassured to have Varric on their side, but time was ticking on. Finding himself acutely aware of the finer aspects of an attractive man was not really a hardship, but that was today. What of tomorrow? How much more intense could this longing get?

As the sun began to sink below the tall buildings of Hightown and the sky darkened, Anders worried about what the effects of the rocks might be on him tomorrow - the fourth day.

 

***

 

They ate dinner with little conversation. Fenris felt Anders' eyes flicking to him frequently. He was not unaware of the looks the man had been giving him today. It was strange - surreal, even - to have so much attention from one who would barely even speak to him except to fight four days ago.

He tried to ignore it. It was the enchantment. Anders did not mean anything by it.

But as Fenris gathered the plates together for washing, he felt Anders step close behind him.

"Fenris, we need to talk," Anders said, his voice breathy.

Fenris schooled his features to neutrality. "I know what you're feeling, mage, but it is an illusion. Try to set it aside."

He turned to the sink, keeping his eyes away from Anders. He would not encourage the effects of this spell.

"I can't," Anders said, feeling in his voice.

Arms closed tentatively around Fenris's waist, and he felt Anders' breath on his ear. "I know this must be strange for you, but I've seen you look at me. It's OK. I want you to like the way I look."

Fenris held himself still. "You are mistaken, mage," he said.

"No," Anders said, his lips briefly touching Fenris's ear - so soft, sending a tremble of feeling that went right to his cock and made him stiffen in Anders arms. "I'm not," the man finished, and Fenris could hear the smile in his voice.

Slowly, Fenris took hold of Anders' arms with fingers wet from the wash water and pulled them away from his waist. He turned to face the man.

Anders was still standing so close, an intense look in his golden eyes. "I am not," Fenris said, "going to do anything to you."

A small smile pulled at Anders' lips. "So do something _with_ me."

One hand closed back down on Fenris's hips and the other reached up to his neck, Anders' thumb resting warm and firm against the line of Fenris's jaw. "I want this," Anders said.

"No," Fenris said, willing his voice to a firm, even tone he did not feel. Too aware of Anders' chest, so close to him now, barely concealed beneath his flimsy shirt. "You don't. It is an enchantment. Four days ago you would barely even talk to me. You do not want this. This is not _you_."

Anders closed his eyes and cleared his throat. "I think it's more me than it will be tomorrow. Or the day after. I, umm..." the mage grimaced, and when he opened his eyes, Fenris could read the fear there. "Fenris, I'm scared. I know this must be difficult for you, but it's what I need. I need you. And I need to feel like myself again. I don't... I don't want to know what the book means when it says I'll be 'uncomfortable' tomorrow, I..."

Fenris put his hand over Anders' on his neck. "You will get through this. The Black Emporium exists. Varric will help us find it. I will get you home. Back to Hawke, _your_ Hawke and..."

"And _what?_ " Anders asked, his eyes flitting between Fenris's. "Getting home doesn't _fix_ this. It doesn't get these things _out_ of me. It doesn't-"

"No," Fenris said, willing his voice to calmness, squeezing Anders' hand with his, trying to give Anders his strength. "But it _buys us time_. If we can get back to Kirkwall you won't be caught if the rocks are removed and in the meantime, you... you could be with Hawke." He looked earnestly into Anders' eyes. "The - the book said I could tell you to sleep with someone else, and it would suffice. If you and Hawke are together then-"

Anders pulled back. "You think... you think if you just tell me to sleep with Hawke that will make this OK?"

Fenris's stomach sank. Voicing the the thought out loud, it no longer seemed the perfect solution it had been in his head. "Would you not... would you not prefer that? If you care for her - really care for her - then-"

" _No_ ," Anders said, stepping back, his voice choked. "I don't want to sleep with her just because you tell me to and I... I don't _want her_. I know it's the spell - I'm not stupid - but right now, what I want is _you_. And - and Fenris... it's not like it would be a hardship. You - you weren't exactly beaten with the ugly stick, you know? You're beautiful. And - and I _like_ sex. I would _like having sex with you_." Fenris was shaking his head, but Anders went on. "And I'm good at it. We could have a good time. And then tomorrow morning I'd be myself and I could function like a normal human being. This doesn't have to be a bad thing."

It was too much. He couldn't listen to the man insisting he wanted something that had been forced on him anymore. Fenris pushed out of Anders arms and walked away. Breathing hard. "No," he said at last, stopping and looking back at Anders. "I won't do that to you. I can't. I-" He strangled on the words as memories rose. Undressing for Danarius. Looking up at the magister through his lashes. Thinking that it was what he wanted - that somehow Fenris was seducing his master - convincing himself that he wasn't submitting to sex he didn't want, pretending it gave him power if he sought it out...

Something changed in Anders face. "Fenris, are you alright?"

He shook his head, wordlessly. "I'm sorry," he said, when he finally found his voice. "I'm sorry. I can't help you."

And with that, Fenris fled.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders goes to find Fenris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a big chunk of explanatory text here, but I think it's just distracting. The main thing is that here is where I stopped trying to post to a schedule because it was getting me down and interfering with my creative motivation. I also thanked StormDragon for their regular commenting - which is still awesome :)

Anders struggled to absorb Fenris's rejection.

Some part of him understood. It wasn't that Fenris didn't want him or was displeased with him, it was that the man was trying to respect him and protect him. But there was a disconnection between this knowledge and the hopelessness that had overwhelmed him when Fenris fled the room.

Brushing tears from his face, he took deep, steadying breaths. It was not Fenris's job to make him feel better. If Fenris didn't desire him then Anders shouldn't blame him, he existed to make Fenris feel good, and...

 _No. No_. _That's not what I exist for_. Anders grunted and leant against the wall. It was so hard to clear his head - to sort out what thoughts were really his.

He missed Justice powerfully - all doubt and wavering was swept away under the spirit's certainty of what was right and just. He could lean on the spirit's judgement when his own wavered.

 _Is that so very different from what you feel now?_   A traitorous dark thought trickled through, freed by the silence of his mental companion.

He groaned and rested his forehead on the cool stone of the kitchen wall.

"Whatever Justice has been to me," he said out loud, "he is better than this."

Pushing off the wall, Anders went in search of Fenris.

He had not gone far. Anders found him in their bedroom. Fenris's bedroom.

He was arranging a line of extra blankets and pillows down the middle of their bed.

"What are you doing?" Anders asked, frowning.

Fenris started, whirling around and reaching for a sword he had earlier removed. A lapse that reflected how badly he had been shaken.

The light of the candles reflected a damp sheen on his cheeks. The warrior had been crying. He rubbed roughly at his face.

"I know what you must be thinking," Fenris said, his voice rough. "I am not..." he held up a trembling hand. "I am not displeased with you. I am not..." The usually still mask of Fenris's face broke in a grimace before he had it again under his control. "I am not evicting you from my bed. I do not what you to feel rejected. I do not want you to be punished. I know what it is to be... put aside. How it is to feel... that you are no longer desired."

He paused, breathing hard. "I... cannot do what you have asked me to, but it is not because of any failing in you. So." He gestured to the oddly-made bed. "You may still join me in bed. But I will not touch you. And I do not want for either of us to do in our sleep what we would not want when awake. This... this is the best I can do."

It was a barrier, of sorts.

Anders understood. Recalled with shame awaking that morning with his hard and aching cock pressed against Fenris.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking down. "For this morning, I-"

"You are not to blame for that," Fenris interrupted. He went on, speaking clearly and a little too loudly: "This is not a punishment."

"No," Anders said, trying to believe it. "But you don't want it to happen again. I understand that. I do." His eyes flicked up briefly to meet Fenris's, then he looked away.

He heard Fenris step closer, but not close enough to touch. "You are not being punished," Fenris said, low and quiet, but intense with feeling.

"I know," Anders said, and then with a struggle he looked up to meet Fenris's eyes briefly. "I know it." He tapped his head and tried for a sidelong smile - he suspected he did not bring it off. "It's just difficult to feel it. But I do know it."

He read doubt in Fenris's eyes, but the elf slowly nodded. It was as close to an understanding as they could achieve. "Good. I think... I think we should retire, then. We can do not more tonight, but if we wake early and find Varric, perhaps he will have news."

Anders had his doubts about that, but it would do no good to voice them, so he merely nodded.

Fenris turned away and began to remove his armour.

Anders hesitated.

"I-I can help you with that," he offered.

Fenris paused, and Anders saw his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. "Thank you," Fenris said. "That would be helpful."

He could feel the tension in the warrior's stiff form as he worked on the fastenings. Fenris was not enjoying this attention - he did not enjoy being served, or touched by a man whose attentions he had rebuffed - and yet he had allowed Anders to do this. It was a peace offering of sorts. He wanted Anders to feel useful, and that in itself was reassuring in a way Fenris's words somehow couldn't be.

Anders was allowed to serve his master in at least this much.

Once the armour had been removed, Fenris did not undress any further, but clambered into bed fully clothed. Again, the message was clear: he did not want to be touched. He did not want Anders to feel him undressed - although he could not hide the firm shapes of his muscles under the form-fitting fabric of his undershirt and leggings.

Anders turned his eyes away from their longing glance at Fenris's form and walked to the other side of the bed before getting in.

The mound of blankets and pillows rose between them, and Anders did not know if it would be enough to keep his unconscious mind from reaching across the space between them. He tried to console himself with Fenris's words. This was not a punishment.

Still. Sleep was a long time coming.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders awakes to another embarrassing scene as his morning wood gets the better of him. They set off together to meet with Varric again, but soon after they arrive it becomes clear that Anders is rather worse off than he was before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's a chapter earlier than usual \o/ My muse came back to me :)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter. I wasn't in a great place last week for a whole bunch of reasons, but I think stopping trying to force myself to write to a schedule was probably a good thing.

Anders woke to a raging hard-on and an empty space on the far side of the line of bedding that had been piled between him and Fenris the night before. His awareness rose slowly - half in and half out of a dream  in which the pile of bedding was something more - was warm and pliant flesh. Except it wasn't. And as he came to the realisation that he was thrusting against nothing but stale-smelling blankets and flattened cushions, he also came to recognise the light shushing sound of Fenris's footsteps as he retreated down the hall.

He groaned. Had he thought his awakening the previous morning could not have been more embarrassing? If he had, he'd been mistaken.

But even as he rolled away from the blankets, his erection stood out proud and red and insistent - not wilting at all with his shame.

And it wasn't just his cock. He felt sensitive... all over. Arousal suffusing him with a need to finish what his unconscious body had begun. He wriggled in the bed-sheets, longing for friction and release, before finally taking himself in hand and gasping to feel warm flesh press down around him - even though it was his own.

It didn't take much - pumping rapidly and desperately at his cock with only the ring of dry fingers that was his fist. But he was so sensitive and so ready.

Anders came with a breath-taking intensity that left him gasping, and yet as he lay panting on his side, he could take little satisfaction in it. He'd had to pull himself off because Fenris had not wanted him. Had walled himself away with blankets and then fled in disgust when he saw what Anders was doing.

The part of him that wanted to please Fenris had failed, and the part of him that longed for normality was repulsed by what he had been brought to.

Wearily, he pulled himself up, cleaned up the worst of the mess he had made, and made his way to the bathroom to wipe himself down with cold water.

 

***

 

Fenris had set out apples and bread for breakfast again, and Anders wanted to tease him for his repetitive habits, but found he lacked the energy. He didn't meet the elf's eyes, but looked at his plate and ate quietly.

Fenris cleared his throat. "You don't have to be embarrassed," he said.

"Yes. Well. I am." Anders said, shortly, and did not add: _we could have avoided all this if you had just fucked me last night_.

"You will get through this," the elf said, firmly. "Now that Varric is helping us-"

"Right."

He wouldn't go so far as to contradict the man, but he didn't share his faith that finding an ally in Varric would solve all their problems, and he didn't want to listen anymore to Fenris's assurances that everything would be fine. It was already not fine.

They feel into an awkward silence, but gradually, Anders' irritation melted away. It was hard to stay mad at Fenris when, really, all he wanted to do was please him. And after all, it was himself he was mad at. He was the one who had not been sufficiently in control and created an awkward scene. If Fenris wanted to forgive and move on, wasn't that really for the best?

"I'm sorry," he said at last, as they put the breakfast things away. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I know you're just trying to help."

Fenris gave him a long, measuring glance. "Right," he said.

 

***

 

The mage was... changed this morning. More so than he had been. He had obviously been containing his frustrations before, showing an uncharacteristic, but evidently disgruntled, quietness that was at odds with his talkative nature. But now... It wasn't just that he'd apologised. It was that he'd genuinely seemed to mean it, with no underlying resentment ready to rear its head under the surface.

As they walked through the city, he made fewer complaints, and if Fenris sometimes caught a look of anxiety on Anders' face, it usually melted away into a smile when he realised he had Fenris's attention.

Though he couldn't suppose Varric would have been able to turn up much over night, he dearly hoped the man would be able to reveal _something_ when they reached the Hanged Man. For there was little left that Fenris could think to try, and he no longer though it was safe to wander the city's seedier streets with the enchanted mage at his side.

 

***

 

Varric greeted them warmly and invited them to breakfast with him. When they said they had already eaten, he offered them drinks - water and juice when they protested that it was too early.

He was stalling.

The storyteller would have no trick up his sleeve that could save them now.

It was hard for Anders to make himself listen when there seemed so little use to it. What was the point?

And Fenris was... distracting.

Beautiful. The lantern light shone off his pristine white hair, and Anders liked to watch his throat as he spoke. He had such a beautiful voice, and as his larynx bobbed in the brown column of his throat it rippled his smooth skin in an almost hypnotic fashion.

"You doing OK, Blondie?" Varric interrupted his thoughts and he forced himself back to a kind of awareness.

"Sure," he said, shifting in his seat to disguise the slight stiffening of his cock brought on by gazing at the beautiful elf beside him.

Taking a long swallow of the orange juice Varric had forced on him he pulled the tatters of his awareness together.

Fenris was sitting very stiffly in the chair next to him. He had not been unaware of Anders' attention, and it wasn't pleasing him.

Oh. Of course. Of course it wasn't. He rubbed his hands over his face to try to focus himself. "I'm fine," he said. "Really."

Varric had nodded uncertainly, and then turned back to Fenris to continue his conversation.

Sadly, the moment of almost-normality didn't last long. Anders became... very conscious of Fenris's arm laying on the arm of his chair, not so very far from Anders' own.

They were almost touching. He shifted slightly and fancied he could feel Fenris's body heat crossing the space between them. The thought sent blood rushing south to his cock again and it settled there into a low, deep throb.

Oh, what it would be like to touch that arm and pull it across. Press that elegant but strong hand firmly down on the hardening length in his trousers.

Imagining it, Anders surreptitiously moved his own hand down to press on his cock. He didn't want to disturb their conversation, but if he just rubbed-

" _Blondie_ ," a sharper note in Varric's voice, this time. Not chatising as such, but cutting through the fog of arousal to draw Anders' attention to what he was doing. He followed Varri's gaze down to the hand that was gently rubbing a very obvious protrusion.

He first snatched the hand away, then, cursing, realised that was worse and covered his unmistakable erection with both hands. "I'm sorry!" he gasped. "Shit!"

"That's OK," Varric said, clearly trying to reassure, but not entirely hiding his surprise and concern. "Look, this is what - the fourth day since they rocked you?"

Anders nodded miserably, looking anywhere but the faces of his two friends who had just caught him masturbating while staring lovingly at one of them.

"Well, look, see..." Varric said. "Fenris, do you wanna maybe give us a moment?"

"Alone?" he heard the elf ask. " _No_."

Varric's sigh was irritated. "Do I have to go over again how I am happily involved elsewhere?"

"With your _crossbow_?" Fenris was clearly not convinced.

Anders closed his eyes, wishing he was somewhere else. Anywhere else. But especially at home where he could hide under Hawke's duvet and maybe never come out again.

"It's... it's a metaphor, Broody. Look - _trust me_. I am not interested in taking advantage of people who aren't in control of what they're doing. It's not something that's ever appealed. And however out of it your friend seems he's not going to want to do anything with _me_ unless you tell him to. I'm just saying it might help him think a little more clearly if you stepped out - just for a minute."

A pause. He could hear the elf breathing as he thought. "Fine," he said at last. "I will be right outside."

A hand pressed down on his shoulder, and Anders wanted so badly to melt into that touch, but in a moment it was gone, and he heard Fenris walking away.

As the door closed, he opened his eyes again.

Varric was looking at him with a sympathy that was, itself, hard to bear.

"Look, Blondie," Varric said - and his tone and expression were so like the Varric Anders knew that he felt doubly exposed - as though his friend - his real friend - were looking in on him as he'd been caught masturbating in the middle of the Hanged Man. And even though they were in private, and this wasn't the real Varric, but just a concerned stranger, it was too much to bear. Anders buried his face in his hands. Not crying, but very much willing the world to go away.

"This is normal," Varric said.

And the ridiculousness of that phrase in this context was enough to make Anders laugh.

"How can you say anything about this is normal?" he asked, sitting up and raising his hands in exasperation.

"It's normal," Varric said, "For people who've had those things put into them. Fenris said you guys had a book that told you what to expect, right? What did it say about the fourth day of your cycle?"

Anders grimaced. "It said after the third day I would start to feel 'uncomfortable' if I hadn't brought my master to 'satisfaction'. It was a bit too fond of euphemisms, if you ask me."

Varric wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, that's not the most helpful way of putting it, I guess. But from what I know generally and what my sources have filled me in on over the last day, you'll find yourself more and more focused on Fenris. Want to be with him. Want to touch him. Start to fantasise about him. You'll be very easily aroused. And if he doesn't want to touch you, you'll be drawn to touch yourself instead."

"Varric!" He didn't need to hear this.

" _What I mean is_ ," Varric pressed on, "this is normal. For you. It's not your fault. It's just the magic. It doesn't _say_ anything about you or how you'd normally behave or what you'd normally want to do. But you might be more comfortable if, well..." Varric tilted his head.

"Well... what?"

The dwarf cleared his throat. "Well, if you took yourself somewhere more... private. Just... accept what's going to happen, and take care of it."

Anders stared at him. He very definitely didn't want to be in this conversation.

Feeling that he was blushing a furious red, Anders forced himself to say: "It, umm, it's not very... satisfying. When he's not... I mean." He looked away so he didn't have  to see Varric's expression as he said: "I don't really want to be away from Fenris. It's... it's not the same if he's not there."

When he looked back, Varric's lips were folded into a grim line. He rubbed his neck, then sighed. "I can see that, Blondie, but... what we want - what we really want - is to find this thing that Fenris is so sure can help you before this gets any worse. Before we actually need to... to do something to you that I don't think any of us wants to do, OK? And I don't think you can help with that right now," he said, his eyes flicking to the corridor, where Fenris waited outside.

Understanding dawned. "And I'm a distraction, aren't I? To him. And you. You're both looking after me, and I'm not exactly making that easy."

Varric pulled a face. "It's not _that_ precisely," Varric said.

But it was. Anders took in a deep breath and sighed it out. Some time in the last few minutes of talking to Varric his cock had subsided and he did find he could think more clearly. "I should go back to the mansion," he said.

"Or you could stay here," Varric offered, but Anders shook his head.

"I don't think Fenris would let me even if I wanted to. He's... paranoid about what other people might do to me." _Not without reason_ , Anders admitted, privately, remembering the hand on his buttocks from the day before.

"It's OK," he said, finally. "As long as he promises not to order me to stay there like he did before, I think I'll be OK."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris leaves Anders alone in the mansion and Anders has a good wank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to anyone who gets a double notification for this chapter. Technical difficulties.

Varric had pressed a staff into his hand before they left for Hightown. It was cheap and cheerful, and a fire mage's staff rather than a healer's, but as far as defending himself went, the boost to elemental spells probably wouldn't hurt.

It did feel good to have a staff in his hand again. Less like he was just a weight Fenris was dragging around behind him. More like someone who could take action if need be.

Fenris set a swift pace back to the mansion - eager to be off and looking for the Black Emporium again as soon as possible. It was frustrating to be a hindrance to that - especially when it was all in aid of him, but at least the exertion helped to take his mind off the elf himself, and what he would like to be doing to that elf if only the blasted git would let him.

When they finally entered the cool shade of Fenris's house, he turned to him. "I _will_ return," Fenris said, with a seriousness that would have been funny in other circumstances. "You - you may leave, if you wish. I don't want you to feel trapped again. You do not need to be alone, as you were before, and I _will_ be back. If you need money, I have left a purse in the top drawer of the dresser."

Anders nodded. He felt like he ought to say that he would be fine, but nothing about this was fine, and the words dried in his throat.

Fenris nodded back and turned to go.

Anders caught his arm - touching skin to skin and feeling the warmth and strength of his muscles. "Don't go," he whispered. "We could have more time, right now. This clock we're on can be reset. It doesn't have to be difficult."

Fenris closed his eyes. He breathed in deeply and let it go, then gently peeled Anders fingers away from his bicep.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but this is for the best. There is still time."

Fenris gave his hand a final squeeze, and was gone.

In the wake of his departure, Anders slumped against the door. He could still feel the warmth of Fenris's flesh against his palm - the touch of Fenris's fingers on his hand.

Eyes closed against the sorrow of the man's departure, Anders drew solace from that remembered touch.

He imagined it travelling up his arm - and shivered as the illusion felt almost real.

He remembered the feel of Fenris's cheek in his hand from the night before. The solidness of bone and muscle woven together around the point of his hip.

Imagined pulling Fenris closer.

What would it have been like to touch those lips. Always a little fuller than he somehow expected - the man was so full of edges and spikes, but he was soft in places. Those lips that could curve in the barest hint of a smile and rivet the attention. The tender place between the corner of his jaw and his neck where the blood vessel pulsed just beneath the skin. A fearsome warrior - frightening, sometimes even to his friends - but soft in little places. Vulnerable where a sore spot was touched.

A brief memory of Fenris shaking with remembered pain intruded. Anders shoved it away.

No. No. Focus on the lips. Soft, like Hawke's. Without the stubble that had roughened stolen kisses with Karl. But Hawke...

Hawke. Where was she now? At home? At the Hanged Man? Was she looking for him? Would she be angry that he longed for Fenris, now?

Suddenly the idea of using memories of her to augment his fantasy of Fenris soured the vision.

He did not want to be doing this. He did not want to be thinking of someone else. Of him in her place. Of her in his.

With a grunt of frustration, he pushed away from the wall and went to find some other form of occupation.

Turning his focus away from the low-level horniness that plagued him, Anders returned to their bedroom. Fenris's bedroom. The room with the bed.

There was a book there - two books - that he ought to read a bit more closely.

Fenris had put them back in the bag with the other things he had bought from that merchant. Curious, he found two jars in with the books. One was a deep purple, the other an emerald green. He opened the green one and smelt it.

Too deep a sniff. The alcohol in the perfume made his nose tingle when inhaled too sharply. Anders sneezed, some of the perfume spilling on his hands.

He put the jar down and stoppered it, but the perfume was now permeating the air. When it wasn't being sucked directly up his nose, it was beautiful. Charming. Deep and rich and earthy. Like forest loam and gentle musk.

Anders lifted his damp hand to smell it more closely. Not overwhelming this time, but absorbing. A scent he wanted to roll around in.

He rubbed the dampness on his hands off on his neck and the insides of his wrists.

Heavenly.

He lay back on the bed, the smell surrounding him.

Why hadn't Fenris given him this before? It was bliss.

A hand reached under his shirt and began rubbing at the nub of his nipple. Yes. That was good. His whole body felt delicious. Sensitised as it had been that morning when he'd woken in the middle of a wet dream.

He undid his trousers and pushed them down past his arse... and feeling his buttocks shifting against the bedspread drew attention to them. Maker - he was so firm!

With one hand he continue to rub at his nipple, and with the other he cupped his own butt cheek, enjoying the feeling of muscles shifting beneath his flesh.

His cock was stiffening, and he laughed to feel it rise.

It felt so good. It all felt so good.

He breathed in deeply of the perfume and trailed his hand down his chest to his cock. Traced the vein underneath it with one finger as he grew hard.

Anders whimpered.

He left his arse alone and brought his other hand up to gently cup and manipulate his balls.

He groaned. He was already leaking precum and he spread the liquid down from his head to add some lubrication as he began to stroke his cock.

He teased himself. Going slowly - dragging with a firm pressure up his cock as the thumb of his other hand rubbed gently at his balls.

He squirmed, then pushed himself further onto the bed - all the way, so he could bend his legs and open himself out, making it easier to reach back.

As he rubbed slowly up his cock again, he trailed a finger down his taint and moaned. He touched the dry circle of his hole.

Maker, he needed some oil - something to lubricate himself and help the play along. Had Fenris left him any potions?

Peering at the table by the bed, Anders saw the other mysterious jar. He didn't want to break the moment to investigate, but if it were something he could use...?

Levering himself up, Anders grabbed it, pulled the stopper, and sniffed delicately, having learnt his mistake from last time.

This jar was also deeply scented - something more floral, maybe with a sandalwood base? - but it did not have the edge of alcohol that had been in the perfume. Cautiously, he tipped a little of the contents out onto his fingers.

Oil. It was oil. Probably intended for massage, and not for sex. But then again, if they sold this for use by slaves...

Anders found he didn't care. He was distantly aware that he probably should. That he should try, as a healer, to identify the origin of the scent before he started rubbing it on the most sensitive parts of his body, but at this point he couldn't really bring himself to care.

Pouring a little on one hand and then rubbing it on the fingers of the other, he set the jar aside and leaned back on the bed, scooting until he was back in a good position, then trailing his fingers up and down his hard and aching cock once more. He gave it a few more rubs - building up a rhythm that included a swirl at the end over the head - and then reached down with his other hand between his legs. Along the taint, the sensation making him want to squirm, and then back again to his hole.

He twitched at his own touch, and smiled, then pressed his middle finger in.

It felt so good to have something inside him as he was being stroked outside, but it wasn't enough. Passage smoothed by the oil, he pressed in further - seeking the hot point inside that would make him...

"Ah!" he cried out as he found it, jerking up reflexively. Then he began to rub inside on that warm, soft space as he pumped on his cock.

He could feel the blood flooding his member, making his flesh firm, enhancing the sensations, drawing him closer and closer to climax.

He slipped another finger in, and then a third. The stretch was so good, even though the angle was awkward and he desperately wished it was Fenris plunging into him and not his own hand.

But then the thought of Fenris was in his mind. The hard planes of his muscles. The soft places and the firm. The intimacy of touching his flesh on his arm where it was bared by his armour.

His voice, rolling deep and warm with sympathy and care. Caring for him. Caring about Anders.

Fenris smiling at him.

Imagining those soft lips wrapped around his cock.

That pushed him over the edge - Anders was spasming with his orgasm, one hand wrapped around his cock, they other curled within him.

It was powerful, but even as he collapsed back against the bed with exhaustion, there was something -  a kind of lack. An absence.

He wasn't supposed to be doing this to himself. He was supposed to be doing this for Fenris.

Fenris, who wasn't here. Fenris, who didn't want him.

Sighing deeply, Anders rolled over and buried his face in the disorderly pile of blankets that still littered the bed.

These feelings weren't his - he knew that. And yet they were. They were just exactly how he felt right now. Rejected. Unworthy.

He groaned.

"I thought having a good wank was supposed to help!" he complained, muffled by the bed clothes.

Rolling onto his back again, he looked up into the cracks in the ceiling and wondered how much longer it would be until Fenris returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I know about wanking with a penis I learnt from fanfiction. I hope this is vaguely appropriate. I considered skimming over it, but really, it needed to happen.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris comes back to the mansion to find that Anders has prepared a surprise.

Returning to the mansion late that evening, Fenris was filled with frustration and shame. He had spent the day tagging along behind Varric as he met with various contacts. His presence had been less than useless. Most of the time he was simply ignored, but some clearly viewed him with suspicion and were less comfortable talking in front of a stranger.

And yet what else could he do? Wander the streets aimlessly again? Stumble into trouble by himself and potentially leave Anders stranded on his own?

They had made some progress. A woman near the docks had refused to speak in his presence, but once he left had told Varric that entrance to the Black Emporium was only possible by invitation. The invitations were enchanted, and only someone in possession of one would be able to see through the obfuscating wards that cloaked the shop and it's dangerously illegal contents.

Invitations were sent only at the owner's discretion, mostly to the rich and those with clear mage sympathies. Varric's contact had claimed not to have one herself and could not, or would not, identify anyone who did.

It seemed that Xenon zealously protected himself in this world where magic meant slavery.

It was a start, but it was not enough, and Fenris did not relish the prospect of telling Anders he would have to spend another frustrating night under this spell.

With trepidation, he opened the door to the mansion.

The mage was not difficult to find.

Anders had dragged a couch into the middle of the main hall and seemed to be... lounging in wait?

A book lay at the far end of the couch, but if he had been reading before, Anders had clearly stopped when he heard Fenris coming. He lay, one long leg spread out across the couch, the other bent as it supported one of his casually draped arms, giving an air of indolence that was belied by the fact that this whole scene was clearly staged.

And he was glistening with oil. All of his naked torso and arms, shining invitingly in the lamp light. And the candle light. There were so many candles. Anders seemed to have found every candle he owned, and possibly bought a few more. The glimmer of their light on his oiled skin made it impossible to ignore that he really was very well-shaped for a mage.

Fenris could only be thankful that the man had clothed himself from the waist down in the tight black trousers they had bought at the market.

The smirk that graced Anders' face said both that he knew Fenris would be irritated by his impudence and that he assumed with exasperating confidence that Fenris would be tempted anyway.

"I found the oil you bought me," he said, smile widening to a grin as he sat up, pushing smoothly off the couch in a languid motion. "This _was_   for me, wasn't it?" He said, gesturing down his gleaming skin.

Damn the man, he managed to find something to tease Fenris about even as he attempted seduction.

"I mean, it was with the other things you bought for me," he continued, drawing closer - stopping just a little too close for comfort, "but you didn't give it to me. So maybe it wasn't for me after all," he said, his eyes flitting about Fenris's face. "Perhaps you bought it for you."

Anders pushed white hair back from Fenris's forehead, his hand coming to rest on the side of his neck, thumb slowly tracing the line of his chin.

Fenris couldn't move - was stunned into stillness by the contrast between the weariness and frustration of his day and this... display.

"Perhaps you wanted to oil yourself for me," Anders said, his voice husky with desire. "A shining gleam all over those tight muscles."

He was so close now, his face barely an inch away. Anders held his eyes for a moment longer, then closed that space - lips gently pressing against Fenris's open mouth. Fenris could not ignore that there was a tightness growing in his own trousers.

Emboldened when Fenris did not reject him, Anders opened his mouth and let his tongue skirt over Fenris's lips. When their tongues met, Fenris shuddered with sensation, a shock of desire seeming to go right to his cock. For a moment, his lips closed on Anders' and he was kissing back-

 _No. Wrong. Bad_.

He pushed against the mage so forcefully the man stumbled, and Fenris had to catch his shoulders again to stop him falling.

The lust was gone from Anders' face. Replaced by hurt.

"I _cannot do this to you_ ," Fenris said.

The was a gleam in Anders' eyes that spoke of tears. "It's all I want," he said, his voice choked. "Please."

"I'm sorry," Fenris replied, and stepped back, needing to create distance between them.

Anders' shoulders sagged and as he closed his eyes, tears spilled over onto his cheeks. "Please, I can't live like this."

"It's only for a little bit longer," Fenris said, although he found it hard to believe that himself. Their progress had been much too slow, and he knew it.

Anders shook his head. "I know you think you'd be hurting me, but you wouldn't." He looked pleadingly at Fenris."This is what I want. Right now. My - my feelings, right now, are real. And I need you. You'd be helping me. Not hurting me. Please believe me."

"I'm sorry," Fenris said again, feeling the uselessness of those words. "I can't," he said. "Please. Please just... wash yourself off. I'll make us some food."

He could not meet Anders eyes, and as he fled to the kitchen, he heard the mage mutter: "I already made dinner."

 

***

 

He had. Anders had already set out food. And wine, too.

It was more than the plain and simple fair Fenris had pulled together for them on the previous days. Anders must have been to the market. And he had cooked. A richly spiced dish of mince in a reddish brown sauce that tasted of tomatoes and onion that Fenris could not have even have guessed how to make.

It was beautifully presented - there were candles in here as well.

Fenris turned away from it to collect himself.

The mage was trying - very hard. It was more than just seduction. Fenris recognised in this a slave's need to please a master he knew he was disappointing.

Tears rose hot to his own eyes and he brushed them furiously away.

This would be painful for Anders, but it was the right thing. He could not sleep with him. Would not.

Fenris took one of the wine glasses and drained it in three long gulps.

A good wine. It tasted like the Agreggio Pavali - did Anders know? Had Hawke told him? Surely not. He would never have chosen a wine so fraught with memories of Danarius if he had aimed to please.

Still, it was as alcoholic as the rest. Fenris poured himself another glass and drank it more slowly. He was nearing the bottom when Anders returned - damp from washing off the oil and wearing the black shirt Fenris had bought for him at the market.

"It'll be cold," the mage said, shortly. "I don't know why I cooked it. I didn't know when you'd be back. I just..." he trailed off.

"It looks... very impressive," Fenris said, awkwardly.

Anders snorted. "Right."

"Cooking is... not a skill I was ever taught. Or if I was, I do not remember it. I would not even know how to start with something like this."

Anders shrugged, not meeting Fenris's eye. "It's the same as virtually everything else I can cook. You start with onion and garlic. Add meat. Add tomatoes. Then use spices to make it taste like something."

Fenris scooped some up and took a bite. He could taste the garlic. And the spices added a pleasant warmth to it even though the dish was cold. "It really is very good," he said, hoping Anders would look up and meet his eye.

He did not.

"You didn't find the Black Emporium, then?" the mage asked. He wasn't eating anything himself.

"Not yet," he said. "But we know now why we were unable to find it. It is concealed by magic to avoid detection by anyone who doesn't have an invitation."

"Did you get an invitation?"

"Not yet," Fenris admitted.

"Right."

Fenris reached out and gently touched the mage's hand. "I know it is hard, but there is still time. Tomorrow-"

"Please don't say that to me again," Anders said, quickly, drawing away from his touch.

"I-"

"Don't tell me there's still time. Please. It's already bad enough."

The sadness in his voice was cutting.

"I apologise. I did not mean to make it worse."

Anders nodded, swallowed his wine, and got up to leave.

"Mage," Fenris said, "You must eat."

Anders met his eyes with a flat stare, then sat down again. "If you say so, then I must," he said, and Fenris realised his mistake as Anders began mechanically to eat.

"I - I didn't mean-"

"I know."

"That wasn't an order."

The mage seemed to relax a little, but continued eating in silence.

"I wish I could help you more," Fenris said, and Anders sighed.

"You know how you can help me," he said quietly. "But you're not going to do that. So."

The rest of the meal was awkward and almost entirely silent. Fenris wished he could break the tension. He could see the effort Anders had put into everything. The setting, the food, the wine. Even his attempt at seduction. And it had all come to nothing. Had come to this. Two people eating in silence knowing that they had utterly failed to make each other feel any better.

They left the bottle half empty, and when they finished eating, Fenris left Anders to blow out his many candles while he went back to the bedroom.

They could not go on with the arrangement they had had before. Anders' needs clearly overcame him in his sleep, and the pile of blankets had not been enough to separate them.

Fenris brought the mattress through from his other presentable bedroom and set it next to the bed. Neither of them would sleep on the floor like a slave.

As he was fixing the sheets and blankets, Fenris heard Anders climbing the stairs and pausing at the doorway.

"You don't want me in your bed anymore," he said, trying to conceal the emotion in his voice.

Fenris looked up. "You can take the bed. I will sleep here. I think - I think we will both sleep better for it."

"Right," Anders said, looking away, unable to disguise the hurt.

Fenris stood and went to him. "It is just to protect you," he said.

"Sure," Anders said, still not meeting his eyes. "I understand."

Fenris was not used to offering physical affection, but he could see that Anders needed more than his words. He pulled the taller man into his embrace. "This is _not_ a punishment," he said with force.

When he broke away, Anders brushed at wetness on his face, then took a deep breath and sighed it out.

"OK. Yes. I know that. Sorry," he said, then laughed. "I know I'm being... stupid and petulant. And you're being very tolerant."

Fenris thought for a moment, needing to find something reassuring to say that would not sound hollow. "You're not being stupid. You cooked a beautiful meal and did everything right. It is this situation that is wrong. Not you. And we will find our way out to the other side."

Anders rewarded him with a half smile and a nod.

It was the best that either of them could do. Fenris settled down into his makeshift bed, expecting that neither of them would sleep well that night.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders awakes on the morning of the fifth day of his enchantment. He tries to persuade Fenris of a new way to solve their problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some graphic descriptions in dialogue. No actual violence occurs in this chapter.

His dream that night was gentler than he had expected. With the pressing urge to do _something_ with Fenris that had built all day, and then been frustrated, he had both anticipated and dreaded the kind of erotic dream that mirrored the dirtiest stories he had heard when living in the brothel in Denerim. But instead...

Gentle touches. Kissing. Kissing Fenris. Enjoying the feel of his lips. They had been as warm and soft as he had imagined in their fleeting touch, and now his mind fixated on the memory.

Soft lips closing on his. The barest hint of tongue.

Strong hands running with tenderness down his arms, his torso, the insides of his thighs.

Lips kissing upwards from his knee along the sensitive skin. Pressing gently against the delicate area around his balls. Then finally his cock.

Warm kisses moving teasingly up his length as he stiffened.

He reached for Fenris's head to urge him on and...

And the man was gone.

Half-asleep, he patted the area around his cock until his blundering hand met with his member and he gasped.

He was hard as granite and weeping pre-come.

Stifling a sob, he grabbed a pillow and pressed it down over his face.

It had been a dream. It wasn't real. Fenris had never kissed anywhere except - for one brief moment - his lips. And then he had pushed Anders away so forcefully he had nearly fallen.

He wanted so badly to cry - great, wracking sobs that reflected how lost and alone and _helpless_ he was under the onslaught of his body's unsatisfied needs. But he could not. He didn't want to disturb Fenris any more than he obviously already had.

Faint sounds of movement and a weight dipping the mattress confirmed his suspicions.

A hand touching his arm made him flinch.

"Sorry," he heard Fenris say - his voice deepened further and roughened by sleep. "I just... wanted you to know you are not alone. This isn't shameful."

Anders pulled the pillow back from his face and looked askance at him. "Yes, Fenris," he said. "It is. It-" How could he possibly explain?

Fenris bowed his head. "I apologise," he muttered, and got up to go. "I will give you some space."

"No," Anders said, grabbing his arm. "No, please, I need help."

Guilt in deep green eyes. "I can't help you," he said. "I can't do what you need. I just can't."

"I know," Anders said, pulling himself awkwardly to a sitting position, willing himself to ignore his still painfully erect cock beneath the covers. His heart was thundering fast with nerves, but the idea that was forming in his mind held such tantalising hope. "That's not the only way you could help."

He held out his hand, and thanked the Maker when Fenris took it.

Anders held Fenris's eyes with his as he pulled the elf's hand to the back of his neck, forcing Fenris to sit back down on the bed.

As he felt lyrium-lined fingers resting against his skin, he whispered: "You could just pull them out."

Fenris blinked and started to pull back, but Anders held his hand there. "I've seen you do it. You can reach right into a man and pull out... whatever you want," he said. "Do that to me." He pressed those fingers down against the lump in his spine. "Just pull it out. Pull them both out."

Fenris jerked his hand back. "You are _not_ serious," he said.

"I'd deadly serious," Anders said, fixed now on the hope this thought offered. "I want them _gone_ ," he said. "I want them out of my flesh. I want to know how _I_ feel and only do what _I_ want to do. I want to be free. I want control over my body again. I want you to _help_ me. I don't care if it hurts, I-"

" _No_." The finality in Fenris's tone stopped the flow of words from Anders mouth - the _begging_. "You aren't thinking straight. You have seen what it does to a man when I reach inside his flesh. To grasp a man's heart I must phase back - I rip him apart as I pull out. I-"

"I don't care," Anders said, desperately. "It's just beneath the skin. It wouldn't-"

"It's attached to your _spine_ , Anders." He reached back and gripped the solid lump beneath Anders' skin. "Do you want me to pull your spine out through the back of your neck?"

Miserably, Anders closed his eyes and let the tears that filled them fall. "I don't know," he said brokenly. "What about the other one - you could - you could at least..."

"No," Fenris said, more kindly this time. "You do not want me to rip out your cock and balls either."

Anders snorted. "I don't think it's exactly attached there - I can't feel it. I think it's further in. I-"

Fenris took his hand and squeezed it. "So you want me to feel around inside your groin until I find something hard and then pull it out, do you? Knowing that I'll bring anything that's in the way with it?"

Anders sighed and opened his eyes. "I suppose not."

A frown split Fenris's smooth brow. "I'm sorry I can't do this for you. I wish it were that simple - truly." He squeezed Anders' hand again. "I... I don't think I'll leave you alone so long today. I will visit Varric, but I will come back here for lunch, with whatever news I can bring."

Anders' heart sank. There would be no news. There wasn't enough time.

Fenris seemed to read his doubt on his face. "Anders, the Black Emporium exists. Xenon exists. There is no reason to suppose he will not have the same resources as he did in our world and that the Esorekt will be in his possession. We are close - I promise you."

"Maybe," Anders said, no longer willing to expose himself with real hope, "but I don't think we are close enough. Fenris... tomorrow..."

"I will not let it come to that."

Anders sighed again, but nodded. He wanted to scream at Fenris for promising things he had no reason to think he could deliver, but he could not. It wasn't his place and he could well imagine the kind of punishment that kind of behaviour would bring down. "I'll see you at lunch then," Anders forced himself to say. "I - I don't think I'll come down for breakfast," he added. "Not yet."

Fenris frowned with worry, but his eyes flicked down to Anders' wilting cock, and Anders allowed him to draw his own conclusions.

The truly desperate need had passed for the moment, but he couldn't face another meal with Fenris right now where he shared more hollow words and empty promises. If he insisted on wasting time on his fool's errand, Anders would rather just let him go.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders, no longer able to tolerate his situation, goes to a surprising person for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha - so it was a surprise to me that the last chapter was already up. That was supposed to be the first scene of this chapter. I saved it as a draft, but I guess when I edited it at some point I accidentally hit publish. Apologies to anyone who was expecting actual plot from that chapter.
> 
> More things happen in this chapter. We're still not quite where I was hoping to get, but these things always take longer to write out than they do to run through in my mind...

Being left behind to wank and yearn after Fenris was not the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to Anders, but it was up there. And he was done with it.

After an hour of embracing the shame of finding his cock stiffen at virtually anything that reminded him of Fenris, and feeling a little sore from rubbing as a result, Anders decided he had had enough.

He'd had enough of unfulfilled yearning.

He'd had enough of his emotions not being his own.

He'd had enough of being left behind.

He'd had enough of being treated like he was deathly sick when he was just extraordinarily horny.

He had had enough of _being_ that horny - a level of horny that even exceeded his frantic teenage years of persuading anyone and everyone into bed.

And he had had enough of ignoring the fact that Fenris's pig-headed over-protection meant that they hadn't even tried to consult the one person they would have gone to first if they had been in their own world.

This world's Hawke might be handsy and thoughtless, and strangely male, but everyone they had gone to for help had suggested going to see him and, from what Anders could tell, he was just as effective at getting the job done as he had been in their world.

So it was that he found himself in front of a very familiar door, feeling a quite unfamiliar amount of trepidation.

His knock was answered by Bodahn, who blinked - presumably taking in Anders' attire and coming to some swift conclusions - but he covered his surprise quickly, his face settling into its familiar affableness.

"Can I help you, ah, serrah?" he asked.

"I need to speak to Hawke," Anders said, hoping the dwarf wouldn't bar him entry. Bodahn usually treated everyone with respect, but who knew what he would make of a pleasure slave showing up alone at his master's door. It might well be quite a scandalous thing to do, and Bodahn might-

"And who may I say is calling?" the dwarf asked cutting through Anders' worries.

"Um," Anders swallowed. "I don't think he got my name the last time we spoke, but you can tell him it's Anders. And that I'm, uh, I'm the slave he met with Fenris the other day." The heat rose in Anders' cheeks at the thought of self-identifying as a slave, but it was the only salient thing Hawke would know about him.

"Right you are," Bodahn said, stepping back. "You can wait in the foyer and I'll get Messere Hawke for you."

Relieved, Anders nodded and followed the dwarf inside.

Hawke's house was... exactly the way it was in their own world. Even down to the large mabari that came bounding up to meet him while he waited for Hawke.

"Oh, hello," he said to dog as it jumped excitably around him. "It's good to see you, after a fashion. I'm more of a cat person in general, but... it's nice to see a familiar face without all those weird looks and judgement." He bent and gingerly scratched the mutt's forehead. The dog barked happily.

"Hi!" Hawke said loudly from the doorway. "I have to admit, I didn't expect to see you again any time soon. Does Fenris know you're here?"

Anders straightened and smiled self-consciously. "Not exactly," he replied. "But he didn't forbid me to leave the house this time, so..." he cleared his throat. "Look, can we talk? Somewhere private?"

Hawke frowned. "I, umm. Look, before you say what you've come to say, I have to apologise about the last time we met. I understand why Fenris is angry with me - you both have every right to be - but I think I might have given completely the wrong idea." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not an excuse, I just... this whole... mage slavery thing... it kind of gives me the willies." That made Anders snort in surprise.

"A lot of people in my family have been mages and, well," Hawke went on, "I'm not comfortable with it. At all. I know it probably didn't seem that way, but... it's led me to be, I dunno, quite rude, I guess. I have a habit of speaking before I think, and-"

"Is this a discussion we could have in private," Anders said, uncomfortably aware that there were a lot of people in Hawke's house and a lot of open doorways.

"Well, you see, that's the thing. I think I gave the wrong impression. And I want to explain before we go into a room alone together. I don't want you to think that I... Well, that I want to _do_ anything, or that I _expect_ anything, and-"

 _Oh Maker_. Anders wanted to melt into the floor with embarrassment.

"And I know last time we met I gave you a lot of reason to think that I would. But I just - I was actually trying to make you feel _less_ uncomfortable - and that failed spectacularly - but the last time I met a pleasure slave he seemed really affronted that I didn't want to touch him and I went into this thing about how mages shouldn't exist just to please other people and I seemed to piss a _lot_ of people off, including the guy himself and Mother gave me this great long talk about how even though it's wrong it's important not to make the _mage_ feel uncomfortable and... and so I was trying to - to go with the flow, and... and I think I went too far the other way," he finished at last.

Anders wasn't quite sure what to make of Hawke's words. "So... you were feeling me up and saying I should get my nipples pierced because you wanted to make me feel more comfortable?"

Hawke ducked his head. "I'm sorry. I say... inappropriate things sometimes when I can't think of anything appropriate to say. So... I wanted to apologise - to you and Fenris. But I have the feeling he doesn't really want to see me right now." He sighed, heavily. "I just... it surprised me. That he would ever even consider owning a slave, given his past. I don't know if he's told you about that, but, umm..."

"I know a lot more about Fenris than you might realise," Anders said. "There's a lot more to this situation than you can imagine. And you're right, he wouldn't want me to be here. He hasn't explicitly told me not to come see you, but I'm aware that this isn't want he'd want." Anders drew his lips into a thin line at the spike of anxiety that rose when he admitted that. He _hadn't_ been forbidden to do this. And it was in both their interests in the long run, so... "Look, it might not be what he'd want, but... I think Fenris has been blinded by... certain things, and we need your help. _I_ need your help. But... please may we go sit somewhere private?"

Hawke glanced behind him as though to see if Bodahn were peering through the archway. He wasn't, but Hawke must be aware that Bodahn, Sandal, even his mother might be within earshot, and a private conversation with a pleasure slave might not be something he'd want any of them to overhear.

"Alright," he said at last. "Why don't you come through to the library." He guided Anders through into the main hall, past Bodahn, who was studying his nails very seriously, and through another door. "There are seats up on the first floor, away from the hall. I'll ask Orana to get us some tea."

Anders frowned at the unfamiliar name, but let it pass without comment. He found himself somewhere to sit. Here, there were differences. Only little ones, but most significant in that they showed an absence of, well, him.

This version of Hawke did not have a copy of Anders' manefesto where it should have been on his shelves. The desk Marian had set aside for him to write at held Varric's latest novel and a few other nick-knacks, but not Anders' pen and inkwell. Not his papers.

Hawke came rushing back up and sat down opposite him.

"She'll be bringing the tea things in a minute. Don't worry about Orana - she's very discrete. And she was the slave of a Tevinter agent who came to try to recapture Fenris, so she understands about... well, slavery. And Fenris." Hawke pulled a face at his own awkwardness, then pressed on. "So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

Anders cleared his throat. This was going to be the hard part. Explaining everything to Hawke without being taken as mad.

"Well, you're right that Fenris... buying me is out of character, but not just for the reasons you might think. I don't know if Varric has told you anything about what Fenris has been doing?"

"Only that he doesn't want me involved and to give him a bit of space," Hawke replied.

Anders shook his head. Bloody idiots. Well-meaning idiots, but idiots all the same. "It's all so... stupid," Anders said. "Fenris has got Varric looking for this thing, which he's told Varric can help me, but he hasn't said _why_. We do need to find it, but Fenris has told Varric that it will stop me from needing to..." he was flushing hot again. "Well, you know. Needing to do what pleasure slaves do. And I - I would _really like that_ , but it's not what the Esorekt _does_ and it won't solve the immediate and increasingly urgent problem I'm facing."

"I'm sorry," said Hawke, frowning, "The 'Esorekt'?"

"It's an Avvar object," Anders explained. "And it's why we're in this mess, and it's part of how we can get out of it, but not the whole problem. You see..." Anders gripped the arms of his chair to lessen the trembling. They had discussed not revealing this to their friends, and while Anders had not been ordered to silence on the matter, he knew Fenris would disapprove. Then there was the fact that Hawke likely wiouldn't believe him, but... he needed help, and as long as Varric believed there was a magic object that could stop him needing to have sex, he would be no help in persuading Fenris to do what he needed to, so... "We're not from here," he said. "It's not just that Fenris is acting differently to the Fenris you know - _he isn't_ the Fenris you know."

Hawke raised his eyebrows, but let Anders keep on talking.

"We're... from another version of Kirkwall. One where mages... well, they still are sort of slaves. We're not supposed to leave the Circle. We're meant to obey the Templars and the Chantry, and we're beaten or made Tranquil for the slightest indiscretion, but there are no... rocks." He fingered the back of his neck, the rock standing out hard beneath his warm skin. "And while the Templars do sometimes have their way with unwilling mages, they aren't supposed to. There are no... pleasure slaves, and officially, slavery has been outlawed in Kirkwall for centuries."

Hawke was staring at him. "You're... from another world?"

"Yes," Anders said. "I know... I know how it sounds, but we - we accidentally stumbled on the artefact. And it wasn't supposed to work. But, as you know, Fenris is sort of different. And so am I. And something in the combination of Fenris's lyrium and me being... what I am," Anders veered away from mentioning Justice. Adding spirit possession to this mix of information was probably not a good plan. "Well, it activated the Esorekt. And next thing I knew, I'm waking up where my clinic should be, in Darktown, but it's not there. There are just a bunch of homeless refugees. And, well, minutes after that the Templars had me. And Fenris thought he could buy me and then free me... but that's not how it works here. He doesn't want me as a slave - he never did - but he didn't know about the rocks, so... that's why he bought a slave. A thing Fenris would never do - either here or in our world."

Hawke gave a low whistle. "You're right. That is quite a tale."

"You don't believe me," Anders said. He hadn't really expected that he would, but...

"I don't know," Hawke said. "It does sound impossible. But I've seen all manner of impossible things since arriving at Kirkwall - several of them involving Fenris. And I can't for the life of me think of a good reason for you to come here and say something like this if it isn't true. And Aveline had mentioned that you'd been an apostate before Fenris bought you, and... that didn't make sense. A man savvy enough to stay free would have known not to come to Kirkwall under any circumstances - it's the worst possible place..."

As Hawke was musing, they heard a sound from down below, and Anders stiffened.

"Don't worry, it's just Orana," Hawke said, then raised his voice: "We're up here!" he called.

As she laid out the tea things, Hawke continued to look thoughtful, and as she returned down the stairs, he cocked his head. "Did you know me in the other Kirkwall?" he asked.

Anders laughed. "Sort of. There - ah - there were three Hawke siblings in that world, and Fenris and I knew two of them. Carver died as they fled the Blight in Fereldan. Is that the same here?"

Hawke narrowed his eyes at the mention of his brother, but nodded.

"Well, we knew Bethany. She was found and brought into the Circle while we were in the Deep Roads. There _is_ a Hawke sibling who mostly goes by their surname... but her name is Marian, not _Garrett_ Hawke. And, as you might be able to guess, she's a woman."

That made Hawke sit up. " _You are kidding_ ," he said. "How could you know that?"

Anders blinked. "Know what? _Was_ there a Marian in this world?"

Hawke laughed. "No! But Mother always said that that was what they were going to call me, had I turned out to be a girl."

"I... OK, wow," he said. "We did wonder exactly how that worked out. So... you, you are who Marian would have been if she'd been born a boy?"

Hawke shook his head. "I don't know... but that certainly... if you're making this up, you chose a pretty weird fact to pin this on and must have done a lot of slightly creepy research to find it out."

Anders grimaced. "Can I persuade you to think that I'm telling the truth, rather than being some kind of compulsive liar and stalker? At least until you can talk to Fenris about it?"

Hawke frowned. "I guess. I can't for the life of me think why you would make up something so... specific. But why tell me all this, knowing how weird it would sound?"

Anders looked down at his hands, his relief at being believed - at least provisionally - allowing the tension of unsatisfied desire to resurface through his anxiety. "Because I need your help," he said. "Fenris won't sleep with me. He's too honourable. And I think he's also too scared. He doesn't want to be - well, he doesn't want to abuse someone the way they use people in Tevinter."

Anders rubbed at his fingers as he went on. "And Varric won't help either. Because Fenris has convinced him that the Esorekt will stop me having these... desires. And it won't." He could feel his cock stiffening in his trousers again - even without Fenris present, just thinking about what he should be doing to him, for him, was enough to...

Hawke gently touched his hands, and Anders started. "Sorry - that - I was trying to comfort you. I wasn't thinking."

Anders took in a big breath and tried to sigh out his tension. "No, that's alright. It's nice to be touched," he admitted. "You have no idea what it's like, to need another person's touch so badly, and have no one be willing to touch you at all..." Anders brushed tears back from his eyes and sighed again, trying to find some level of calm within.

"He hasn't touched you - since he bought you," Hawke said.

Anders shook his head, then laughed. "Well - a little. But not on purpose. And mostly because I was trying very hard to make him do it."

"And that was, what, four days ago?"

Anders nodded, not meeting Hawke's eyes. "Four and a half," Anders said. "Tomorrow will make it five. I, umm, I don't want to know what this is like when it gets to five. I can imagine. I'm a healer. I know that, for instance, prolonged erections can be dangerous. I might," his voice started to tremble. "experience permanent damage to the erectile tissue. If it goes on long enough it can become gangrenous..." his throat closed up.

"Hey, hey." Hawke stood up and crouched beside him, taking his hands. This time he didn't flinch. "That's not going to happen to you."

"Isn't it?" He freed one of his hands to brush away the tears. "Fenris... keeps saying that, but he won't _do_ anything about it. _Please_. You have to talk to him. I know he won't like it, but he won't _listen_ to me. He needs to hear it from someone who knows this world and understands what it's like. I _need him_ ," he said, desperately. "I need him to fuck me. I need him to protect me from what this thing is doing to my body. And I need him to do it today. As soon as possible. Please," he begged. "Please, will you talk to him?"

Hawke sighed and patted his hand. "I'll try," he said. "I don't know if he'll listen, but I'll try."


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Anders learn more about each other. Fenris reacts poorly when he finds them together.

"Are you OK?" Hawke asked.

"Mmm," Anders grunted. Hawke had asked the same question several times over the past hour as they waited for Fenris to return from what was likely another fruitless trip to the Hanged Man. What was he supposed to say? I'm horny as fuck, but not for you; although you could probably have me if you tried it on, so please don't? They'd been through polite circles around that several times already.

They were sitting in the main hall of the rotting mansion Fenris called home - both here and in their own world. Hawke had approved of Anders' cleaning and discrete covering-up of bodies.

They'd talked a bit about the differences between their worlds. The most marked of which for Hawke was Bethany. Although the rock enchantments had been in use for about a hundred and fifty years, the method via which Templars could locate mages quickly and accurately had only been discovered about 20 years ago, and had taken time to travel from a remote laboratory in Orlais to the Free Marches and later Fereldan. Hawke's parents had fled news that it would soon be introduced to Kirkwall and spent a few peaceful years in Lothering as Fereldan resisted Orlesian pressure to adopt the practice. But by the time Bethany was five it had spread. First Malcolm Hawke, Hawke's father, had been captured, and then Bethany herself, when her magic presented.

"I had no idea it had been so recent," Anders had said.

"Well," Hawke had replied. "I suppose we were lucky to have what we did. There were still the rocks - we were always deathly afraid of father being captured. I remember that, even when I was small."

Anders had counted the years in his mind and sighed. "I don't think it would have saved me. I was twelve, when my magic showed - bit of a late bloomer. That would have been about the time they took your dad. They might have even known what I was before I did..."

"I'm sorry," Hawke had said awkwardly, and Anders shrugged it off.

Although the somber tone had made it easier to focus away from the needs of his body, Anders was easily distracted. A part of him wanted to send Hawke away and go back to bed to wank until Fenris returned, but that wasn't the plan.

So instead he paced, and fidgeted, and occasionally had to stop himself when his hand strayed south to touch his oh-so-sensitive cock through the fabric of his trousers.

"What does it feel like?" Hawke surprised him by asking.

"Like being _fucking_ horny, what do you think?" Anders snapped.

"No," Hawke said, ducking his head. "I mean... you want him, right? You want to do what he says. I... struggle with that. With imagining that. Most mages seem so... placid. Accepting. I don't like to think of Bethany like that. But you're not exactly placid. So I just... I guess I wondered how much of it is the training. What the... enchantment, actually feels like, acting on you. Sorry." He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "I'm prying."

Anders took a deep breath and tried to centre himself. Hawke was worried about his sister. Of course he was.

What _did_ it feel like? How was he different to his normal self - aside from really, really needing to bang one out and yet finding it deeply dissatisfying to do so because Fenris wasn't there.

 _Fenris_... Just thinking of the man made him smile. He was so... delicate. Yet deadly. Strong. Flashes of muscles moving under dark skin ran through his mind and he was growing hard again.

Another deep breath.

"It's a lot like falling in love," he said at last. "I... want to be with him. All the time. Just knowing that he's there - seeing a glimpse of him - it sends a little thrill through me. When he leaves me alone... well, I don't like being alone anyway, but..." he grimaced. "I feel rejected. Any sense that I might have displeased him is... the worst feeling in the world. Like I might lose his love... even though I know he doesn't love me in the first place. I just... need him. I need to know I'm making him happy. And he's not an easy man to make happy. So."

"I'm sorry," Hawke said again, in that way that people do when they don't know what else to say.

"In some ways," Anders admitted, "It's not so bad. Who doesn't want to fall in love? It's heady, it's... something that was never permitted in the Circle, where I come from. But here I'm _meant_ to love him. I'm _meant_ to be with him. It's OK." He could feel the soppy smile stretching his features and let it fade. "Except that it's not. Because he doesn't want me. And because I know it's not real. And because," he hugged his arms across his chest. "And because I am so afraid of what will happen if he won't do it." His eyes briefly met Hawke's, but looked quickly away from the pity he saw there.

 _Don't pity me_ , he thought desperately at Hawke, _just convince him_.

"I'll try," Hawke said, as though reading his thoughts. "But I don't-"

The sound of the mansion door crashing open cut through Hawke's words, making them both start.

"Mage," Fenris's voice preceded him. And Anders' heart fluttered to hear it.

"Mage, I have something here, it's not the answer, but..." the elf was walking swiftly into the room, brandishing a small bag, but he slowed to a stop at the sight of Hawke. "You," he said, he face stony and his voice hard.

"He's just hear to talk," Anders said, quickly. "I needed someone to-"

Fenris threw the bag down on a nearby table and drew his sword, pointing it at Hawke. "I don't care how you convinced him to let you in. I warned you."

"I haven't touched him!" Hawke protested, backing up and raising his hands.

"Really, Fenris," Anders tried again. "I need you to listen."

The look Fenris sent him was enough to halt any further words. Fenris was displeased. Angry. Furious. This... this had been a terrible error. He had gravely offended his master. He did not deserve to bring Fenris pleasure. He had no right. He deserved to be punished. To be locked away forever.

He could feel the walls begin to close in around him, and his knees gave out. "Please, Fenris," he begged, hardly knowing what he was begging for.

Hot tears were running down his face, and he could hardly make sense of the noises that clattered around him as he muttered apologies and begged forgiveness.

Arms embracing him and warm hands touching his face as his tears were brushed away.

Finally, Fenris's words reached through the sense of crushing isolation that was closing down upon him: "I'm not mad at you. Anders, I am sorry. I don't want you punished. Please," Fenris's arms squeezed about him. "Please, I don't want you punished. You're not back there. You're still here with me. It's not you I'm angry with."

Anders swallowed a sob as the world swam back into focus. He clung tightly to Fenris.

"I am _not_ angry with you," Fenris repeated.

"Then why don't you want me?" Anders heard himself say, sounding petulant and childish to his own ears. "I need you so badly. I need you so badly." He pressed himself into Fenris's neck, kissing the hot, brown skin.

"It is just the enchantment," Fenris said, pressing back against his arms. "You don't really want this."

Hawke cleared his throat. "He, uh, actually sort of does."

Fenris pulled away to glare at the man. "You would do well to stay quiet," Fenris said.

Anders fought through the fog of desire and fear and rejection. He needed Hawke to speak for him, but that would only work if he could convince Fenris to listen.

"Please, Fenris," he begged. "You don't hear when I tell you. But Hawke knows this place. His father and sister were mages here. He doesn't want to hurt me. I just need you to listen to him. Please - please."

Large green eyes met his with anguish, before Fenris schooled his features to blankness again. "Very well," he said, gravely, "I will listen. But first, let me get you up off the floor."

Anders thought Fenris might help him to a chair, but he felt Fenris shift his grasp, looping an arm under his legs and lifting him bodily.

"Fenris," Anders began.

"You need to lie down," Fenris said, beginning up the stair to their room.

"That's not what I need," Anders whispered, close to Fenris's ear, but the elf did not respond.

He wished he dared press his lips to the point of that ear, but he knew Fenris would not be receptive, so he allowed himself to be carried. In truth, the palpable threat of punishment had left him weak and trembling.

Never the less, he couldn't repress a groan as Fenris laid Anders down on the bed and straightened to move away.

The elf caught his hand and squeezed it. "I will not be gone long. You want me to talk to Hawke? I will talk. But you need to rest. I cannot risk you feeling that my anger is for you."

"Don't hurt him," Anders said, holding Fenris's eyes. "I asked him here. You - you and Varric are chasing dreams. You need to hear it from someone who lives here. Varric won't tell you as long as you keep lying to him about what the Esorekt can do, but Hawke will. I told him the truth. I told him everything."

Fenris's eyes widened and he went very still. He was displeased, but it didn't want Anders to see - that in itself lessened the threat of punishment. "I'll listen," he said. "I can promise no more."

"Don't hurt him," Anders repeated, and was a little gratified when Fenris rolled his eyes.

"So long as he does not threaten you or me." It as close to a promise as Anders could expect.

 

***

 

Fenris closed the door behind him as he left Anders lying in his bed.

He glared at this world's darker, male version of Hawke. "He says you haven't touched him. I don't think he can lie to me, so I believe him. But I told you to keep away. You should have kept away."

Hawke took a steadying breath. "He came to my house. And I wouldn't have agreed to do this except that he was desperate. He - he told me that you're not... from here."

Fenris folded his arms. "And what does that mean to you?"

"Well, uh... I'm not entirely sure what to believe. It was an incredible tale. But he's in a lot of pain, and I think it took a lot of courage for him to come talk to me. He knew it wasn't what you wanted."

Fenris pursed his lips. The thought of Anders going begging to a stranger who had already molested him once was terrifying, but it was just as disturbing that this enchantment was driving him to take such action, even though he knew Fenris would disapprove.

"And... some of the things he said," Hawke went on, "I just don't know how he can know them. There are things you might have told him about me, but there were also things that I don't know how you would have known." Hawke paused, frowning deeply. "He said you're from another world. A world where my parents had an older daughter instead of an older son. Do you know what he said they called that daughter."

It took a moment for Fenris to catch Hawke's meaning, and then he understood. "Marian," Fenris said. "He told you about Marian."

Hawke seemed surprised. "Yes. That was the name. And you didn't bat an eyelid at the suggestion that you're from another world."

"No," Fenris confirmed. There was no point in lying now. Hawke could think them both mad if he wanted.

The man whistled.  "OK," Hawke said. "OK, then you _do_ need listen to me, or otherwise he isn't going to make it. You have no idea how bad this is getting for him, and how bad it can still get. But he does. He's a healer, right. He told me. I knew it was bad, but... It's not just that he wants you, Fenris. His body is in a spiral of pressure to get itself ready to please you, and very soon now it's going to stop letting up t all. And he can't take that. He - he's worries his cock is going to fall off. He's terrified. Wouldn't you be?"

Fenris stared. "I know you think this is for the best, but these exaggerations-"

"It's not an exaggeration, Fenris. OK? He explained it to me. If your cock stays hard too long it doesn't get enough blood flowing through it and it dies - like a crushed limb. He... he needs to get off. Worse: he needs to get someone else off. And that can be you or it can be someone else, but-"

"It _will not be you_ ," Fenris said, rage beginning to bubble up in him again.

"Right, good, fine. But it has to be someone. And the person he most wants in all the world - right now - is you. So... do something about it."

Fenris stared at him, his words starting to sink in. Did Anders really think his cock might die if he had no relief? He looked back against the closest door, uneasily.

Even if that were true, what could he do? He could no longer pretend that they would find the Esorekt in time.

"I... I obtained some herbs," he said, remembering the little bag that now lay downstairs. "I thought... perhaps a drugged sleep. Until we find the Esorekt."

Hawke looked both sympathetic and unimpressed. "Even if that works and he doesn't end up with a killer boner in his sleep, what then? You find this thing. You get home. And... what? You must know that doesn't solve the problem."

Fenris recalled his earlier conversation with Anders, where he had ventured to suggest Hawke - their Hawke - might make for a partner Anders would have chosen if he could. And how appalled Anders had been by that suggestion. Should he then accept that Anders would forever hate him for this to spare his relationship with Marian?

Ghost hands seemed to crawl up his skin as he contemplated it.

 _My good Little Wolf_.

He shuddered and shook his head, mutely. How could he possibly explain?

 _I cannot. I cannot._ The very thought seemed to paralyse him.

"I know it's not an easy thing to consider," Hawke said. "It isn't a good thing. But maybe it's just the best option there is..."

 _The best option_. The best option was to submit and let it happen. Try to make your master believe you enjoyed it. Do what was required in order to live. He believed in survival, but at this cost - to force this cost upon another...

"He is terrified of me," he said at last, barely speaking above a whisper. "Of my displeasure. You have seen how he is. You want me to sleep with a man... when he is so scared. When I can make him tremble with fear." Tears spilled over his eyelids. "I cannot," he said aloud. "I can't do it."

Something like understanding seemed to pass over Hawke's face - understanding mixed with sadness. "Then you need to find someone else. Someone you both trust. And soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter things will be brought to a head, I promise.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke offers a solution, and the sexual tension Anders has struggled under for five days is finally brought to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for non-con applies to this chapter because Anders can't really consent to anything right now and he is going to be having sex.

Fenris was chilled by the idea of telling Anders to sleep with anyone, and yet he seemed backed against a wall. He could no longer deny how bad things were getting for the mage.

Was there anyone they could both trust? There was Varric, but... the very idea of asking the dwarf to do such a thing seemed anathema. He wasn't even sure whether Varric liked men, and the dwarf had emphasised several times that he wasn't interested. Even if Varric would, when they returned to their own world, Anders would be forced to interact with a man who looked identical to one who had used him in such a manner. How could Fenris ask such a thing of Varric when it was something he would not do himself?

He ran through his mind the people they knew in this city. Perhaps Isabela? Anders had slept with the version of her in their own world, so there must have been some attraction between them at least at one time... but then, Anders had been clear that he didn't even want to see Isabela in his present state. Whatever had been between them before, Fenris suspected that Anders was a very different man now than he had been then.

Hawke disturbed his increasingly hopeless thoughts with a grunt.

"Huh - I have an idea!"

Fenris looked at him warily.

" _Not_ me," Hawke said, "I told you, that was... that was all a really stupid mistake and it won't happen again. I think this idea is better. How about," Hawke said, "How about we take him to the Blooming Rose?"

Fenris stared at him. "I am _not_ going to _prostitute_ him!" How could Hawke even _think_ -

"No," Hawke said, waving his arms in protest. "No, no, no - nothing like that. What I mean is, we take him there, OK? And he chooses someone. Someone _he_ finds attractive, and we pay that person to give him the very best time. You'll have to tell him to please that person, but it'll be someone he's actually attracted to, and they won't be taking advantage because their whole business will be about pleasing _him_ \- do you see? Do you think it could work?"

 _Could it?_   Someone Anders chose... _Could_ Anders even choose in his current situation? He didn't know.

He asked Hawke: "Would he be able to choose? I wasn't sure if," Fenris felt the flush blooming under his skin, "if perhaps he would only want... me. Or someone I told him to want."

Hawke pulled a face, feeling the awkwardness. "I don't know, to be honest. But we could ask him? Isn't it... isn't it at least better than the alternatives?"

Fenris sighed. The idea... it offered hope. The tantalising idea that Anders might have some kind of choice. That Fenris could avoid sleeping with him without forcing him to do something worse. Selfishly, Fenris wanted it to work. "It has to be something he agrees to on his own," he decided. "It has to be a solution that _he_ wants, or it is no solution at all."

 

***

 

Anders burst out laughing. He was sat up in Fenris's bed, feeling reasonably recovered from his brush with punishment, but still mind-blowingly horny. And what Fenris had just proposed was, well...

"I'm sorry," he said. "There's just something inherently ludicrous about the thought of you paying a prostitute to sleep with your pleasure slave, who will literally sleep with anyone you like for free."

Fenris's face had fallen and Anders realised he'd better sober up a bit.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm not saying it's a bad idea, I just... maybe I just needed a good laugh."

"I... I just want you to be able to sleep with someone you chose," Fenris said, and the anguish Anders could hear in the man's voice made him feel guilty for teasing. "Is it..." he swallowed. "It is a bad idea? Should we try to think of something else?"

There was nothing else. Nothing better. Not if Fenris refused to sleep with him. They all knew it.

Anders sighed and sat up straight. "If I could choose anyone right now, I would choose you, Fenris." Fenris closed his eyes, distressed to hear the truth. Anders reached out and squeezed his hand. "I know you don't think that is a choice, but it's how I feel. Nevertheless," he cleared his throat, "I understand why it's something you won't - maybe can't do." He had not been oblivious to how his situation had clearly stirred memories for Fenris of what it had been like to be a slave, to have one's body claimed by another. "If you want me to choose someone else, I'll choose someone else."

Misery in Fenris's large green eyes as he opened them again. "I want to know if that's what _you_ want," he said, quietly. "Is it... is that even something you can think about at the moment."

Anders groaned. This all seemed much too complicated. He felt like there wasn't room in his mind to think, when all he wanted to do was pull Fenris into his arms and kiss him. Or sink down to his knees, tugging on the cords of Fenris's leggings until he had freed his cock - taking Fenris in his mouth and swirling his tongue...

"Right, OK, here's the thing," Anders said, forcing himself to focus. "I want to do whatever. Whatever solution you have. I am game. And not just because I want to do whatever you tell me, but because I really need to do something. Literally. I need to fuck someone. I need to get off and I need to get someone off. There isn't room for trying to find some kind of perfect solution where I'm doing what I need to do without fucking anyone at all. There just isn't. I want my mind back and I want my body back and I... really, really want to make you happy, but I will settle for not being permanently damaged by this experience. So. _Yes_. I want to do it. Take me to the Blooming Rose. Let's do it. The sooner the better."

He looked between Hawke and Fenris, reading the surprise in their eyes.

He couldn't wait for them to get used to the idea. Which had been _their fucking idea_. He pushed back the covers of the bed and shoved his feet back into his shoes. "Come on," he said. "If this is what you want, Fenris, let's go."

Fenris closed his mouth and nodded. "Yes, of course."

They set out for the Blooming Rose.

 

***

 

Inside the brothel, Fenris haltingly explained the situation to the madam, while Hawke brandished enough coins to stop her from caring about his reasons. Fenris managed to convey that Anders was a beloved slave and should be treated well, implying that he himself was currently having some kind of issue that prevented him from seeing to Anders personally.

She took the money and assured them that Anders would receive the very best treatment. "Any particular one you'd like looking after him?" she asked. "We have several top-level workers, both male and female, I can point them out to you, if you'd like? They each have different talents, but can deliver a really first rate service."

Fenris frowned. "It's important to me that he choose his partner," Fenris said, hoping that wouldn't seem too strange. "But yes, I want him to be well-served. Perhaps you could let him know who you would recommend?"

Every word out of his mouth made him feel sick. He believed that everyone here offered their body freely, but the pretense of being a slave owner who was doting on his slave like a dog, helping him choose his sexual partner like selecting a treat... it made his skin crawl.

The madam moved away to talk to Anders, pointing out several of the scantily clad elves and humans who lounged nearby.

Anders pointed to a human woman near the other side of the room. She had a glorious mane of curly orange-brown hair and was dressed in a diaphanous fabric that skirted the lines of her body, revealing hints of skin as she moved.

His eyes looked back to Fenris, uncertainty there.

"Is that who you would like to lay with?" Fenris asked, crossing over.

"I want to lay with you," Anders breathed, laying a hand against the side of Fenris's neck, the touch, combined with the earnestness of Anders' gaze took his breath away. For a moment, he wished he could do what Anders asked.

But then the moment passed. He couldn't do that. Not when he knew that Anders' professed desires were not truly his own.

He covered Anders' hand with his and gently pulled it down from his neck. "But you cannot lay with me today. Does she interest you? Do you think you would enjoy being with her?"

Anders closed his eyes, but nodded. "Yes," he said. "She's nothing like you. And she's not like Hawke - Marian - either. But I like her hair. She's very beautiful. I... yes. With your permission, I'd like it to be her."

Fenris squeezed his hand, then let go. "Then it will be her." He gave a nod to the madam, and then stepped in close to Anders, so that his next words were just between them. He didn't want to voice them, didn't want to order anyone to do such a thing - a thing that should be shared only freely - but he could feel the tension thrumming off Anders, and he understood that while it was not a good choice, it was the best available to them. "Sleep with her for me, Anders," he said, his voice a whisper, his lips close to the mage's ear. "Bring her pleasure as you would for me."

Fenris pulled back and looked into Anders eyes. "Will that do?" he asked. "Is that enough?"

Anders nodded, and Fenris thought he could feel something different in his gaze. Some shift.

"Yes," Anders said, taking a deep breath and sighing it out. "Thank you."

 

***

 

The urge to touch and kiss the woman with the curly hair moved from a curious interest to an overwhelming wave of desire with Fenris's words.

He wanted her so very badly. He wanted to bury his face in her hair and kiss her red-brown lips and he wanted to let the light and floaty fabric that barely concealed her skin fall to the floor as he put his head between her thighs and kissed her where she was warm and moist and waiting...

His pulse sounded hard in his ears as the madam led him to her, and when she took his hand is was though a shiver ran through his entire body, his cock now throbbing as it steadily hardened.

Some words passed between the woman and the madam and she smiled at him. Her smile was like sunshine.

"My name is Ayola," she said. "I'm going to take the very best care of you," she promised.

Anders laughed. "It's my job to take care of you," he said.

Her sunshine smile broke across her face again, and he smiled back at her. "Then I suppose we shall take care of each other. Come with me."

And he did. His cock was already hot and hard between his legs as she led him up the stairs. It was distracting and sensitive and made him feel clumsy where he wanted to be graceful.

"Don't worry," she said, her voice soft and deep. "We'll take care of that soon."

She led him into one of the larger rooms. He recognised it from his monthly visits to the brothel to check on the health of the men and women who worked there. The bed was an impressive four-poster. Nicer by far than Fenris's bed, and draped with a gold-coloured fabric that looked to be silk. He really did seem to be getting the royal treatment.

Ayola closed the door and turned back to him.

"It's OK," she said. "I understand your situation. This first time doesn't have to be perfect. Just do what you need to do and I'll take care of you."

He shook his head, trembling now with conflicting urges  - to rut into her fast and find his release, and to see to her pleasure, and only hers. To show her what he could do. To take care of her as she deserved. "I don't think it works like that," he said, trying to contain the shake in his fingers as he lifted them to her hair. "I have to make _you_ happy. I can't just..." he closed his eyes against the thought of finally finding release between her thighs. He cleared his throat, too aware of the scent of her perfume in the air. "I can't just ignore that and... uh... I'm good at this. I am. I can please you."

He leaned in and kissed her - the warm press of her lips soft and ecstatic. When he pulled back he looked into her pale blue eyes and promised. "I can please you. I can do this."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "I believe you. But this first time? You go at the pace you need. You are _going_ to please me, Anders. Tonight, it's my job to be pleased."

She pulled his face down to hers, closing her lips on his, then parting them to admit a tongue that lit wet fire against his when they connected, and then his hands were in her hair and she was puling him backwards to the bed, gathering the thin fabric of her skirt between her fingers as she lay back, pulling it above her hips, exposing her sex - the hair there a few shades darker than the curls on her head.

And as she pulled against his hips to free his cock he knew she wanted him inside now, but she couldn't be ready yet, not so soon, so he caught her hands and stilled them, sinking between her knees, running his hands up her beautiful bare thighs and - _oh Maker!_ \- he was so hard now, his hot erection bobbing in the cool air as he bent his face between her legs and buried his nose in the wiry brown hair of her pudenda.

She smelt of sex and salt and need and parting the lips of her labia with his fingers, Anders licked a wide stripe up across the pink opening of her sex.

Ayola moaned, her thighs shifting about his head with her pleasure, and he pressed more firmly against her, paying attention to the firm tip where her clitoris sheltered under its hood.

She moaned again, fingers plunging into his hair and sending shivers of sensation across his scalp.

He moaned back, and smiled as she responded to the vibrations against her sensitive skin.

She was growing wet, now, he could feel it, and his own need was getting worse. He longed to feel her surrounding him, pressing down on him, to feel muscles of her vagina twitching and stuttering as she came - but he had to hold back. If he wanted that to happen - if he wanted her to come - he had to do this properly.

Pushing up off the ground, he leant forward over her, reaching long fingers back down into her sex - finding that sweet spot at the top point of her inner lips and rubbing with skilled pressure. He was gratified to see her bite her lip and writhe on the bed beneath him.

He fluttered kisses at her neck as he worked his fingers at that magic spot until she arched off the bed with breathless need and he pulled her into a kiss, both hands now lost in her curly mess of hair.

When he broke she held his eyes. "I need you, inside," she said. "Do it. You don't need to wait anymore."

With a strange animal groan he barely recognised as his own voice, he obeyed. plunging his rock hard cock into her warm and welcoming hole.

He could have gone slower. He should have taken his time. Allowed them both to adjust. But the need was just too great now, and she was ready.

The urge to bring them both to completion taking over, he lost himself to the rhythm and sensation and her warm wet flesh and her fingers curled in his hair and the building - building pressure until-

"Ah!" he cried out as he finally came, spilling his seed deep within her, and he felt the strong muscles of her vagina clamp down around him as she followed him into orgasm.

For some time - some endless time - he simply lay there, held within her, overcome with sensation and release and exhaustion.

Eventually, though, he started to come back to himself. The the warm press of her arms about him. The small circles she rubbed on his shoulder. Her soft words as she spoke calmly, reassuring him that he was fine, he was safe, he'd done exactly what he was meant to do.

And somewhere in the warm circle of her arms and the reassurance of her kind words, something in him broke, and Anders started to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry too much - Anders is just a bit overwhelmed.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Anders recovers from the overwhelming experience of finally fulfilling the demands of the enchantment, Fenris struggles with the guilt of what he has commanded Anders to do. And Hawke realises he knows something he didn't think was important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note for mention of rape - no sex or rape happens in this chapter.

Anders was caught off-guard by the sobs that overtook him after he came. He'd heard that some men did cry after sex, but he never had. Sex was fun.

But then, this hadn't really been fun. It had been necessary.

Yet another thing that this world and the rocks under his skin had taken from him.

His face contorted with bitter disgust and self pity as he swallowed and tried to control his breathing. None of this was the fault of the woman he'd lain with. For her sake, at least, he should try to control himself.

Gasping a deeper breath, Anders pushed himself away, pulling out of her and rolling to one side on the bed.

"Sorry," he said at last, looking up at the rich-looking fabric draped above him.

"It's nothing to apologise for," she said, her voice a soothing purr that he half wished were less professional, more real, even though it was her professionalism that had allowed him to come here when all other avenues had seemed impossible - too difficult, too complicated. "It happens more than you'd think," she went on. "The one kind of emotional release can get caught up in the other."

She was rubbing her fingers lightly up and down his arm. It was probably meant to be soothing, but he wished she wouldn't. In the aftermath of overwhelming sensation he felt like his skin was buzzing.

"I don't think it's that," he said, wiping the tears from his face and sighing heavily. He felt both wired and exhausted. Like the string of a musical instrument that had been wound too tight and finally snapped. Little tremors ran through his muscles and his cock... ah, his cock.

He nearly pulled back his hand before touching it, then he remembered the Ayola was a professional and wouldn't care. It was sensitive - so sensitive - and sore, too. Not on the skin, but more like the ache of an over-used muscle. He made a small noise when he touched it, his fingers sending mixed signals of pleasure and sensation so intense it was painful. But thankfully, the thing was blessedly flaccid. He'd oddly needed to touch it to be sure.

Ayola had withdrew her hand. "How long did he leave you wanting like that?" she asked.

"Five days," Anders breathed, pulling his hand away from his cock and  folding his arms across his chest, holding himself.

Ayola swore - something very unladylike and incongruous in these passibly sumptuous surroundings.

In spite of himself, Anders laughed, and he turned his head to look at her. She was still beautiful, her mane of gingery curls no less captivating for a perfunctory round of sex, her dark nipples visible through the thin fabric of her dress.

"I'm serious," she said. "It's not OK. I'm - I'm very happy to help relieve you, but if he had the kind of money to hire someone to do this for you he shouldn't have left it until the very last limit like that - there's no need!"

"It's not like that," Anders said. "He doesn't really have the money. I think Hawke was paying."

"That's not the point," Ayola said. "People who can't take care of pleasure slaves shouldn't own them. If you can afford to buy a pleasure slave you can afford to pay an ordinary person for honest work rather than  _buying_ someone you're not actually going to be able to take care of. Has he done this to you before?"

Anders shook his head and looked away. "He hasn't had the chance. I wasn't a pleasure slave until five days ago. He had some mad-cap idea about saving me, but it didn't work." All true, as long as he didn't need to elaborate.

He looked back when Ayola hadn't responded for several seconds. When he met her eyes her look showed deep sympathy and contained anger. "I'm so sorry," she said at last. "That's awful. They shouldn't... they shouldn't be able to do that to a grown man. I can't even imagine..."

Anders pushed himself up onto his elbows, some of his old fire rising up. "Because it would have been fine if I'd been raised in slavery and trained for sex since I was a boy, would it?"

"No, I... that's not what I..." she stammered, and Anders felt the fight go out of him. He lay back against the sheets.

"Sorry," he said. "I have a bad habit of shouting at people who are trying to help me. And I haven't really been able to shout at anyone without being punished - immediately and severely by something inside my own body - since this happened." He rubbed the lump at the back of his neck. "I'm not really built to be meek and contained," he added quietly.

Ayola lay back down beside him. "You do not," she said carefully, "have to apologise. I cannot imagine what you have been through. I only want to give you whatever you need." She laid her hand on his chest, and this time the touch felt companionable, not invasive. "Just tell me what you want. It doesn't have to be sex, although I'd be very happy to lay with you for your own pleasure, and not because you're being made to."

He shook his head. As much as he would have loved to remember what it was to have fun in bed, the idea of fucking right now was anathema. "Everything's so sensitive," he said. "I'm not sure I could even if I wanted too."

"Then just lie here," she said. "I'll order us a fruit platter and some wine. You take as long as you need. This is your time."

He nodded, but said nothing. He felt the bed dip as she shifted, then rise again as she went to the door.

Yes, it would be good to just lie here, adjusting to the absence of the all-encompassing need that had taken over him for the last few days. The need to be with Fenris. The need to please Fenris.

Now, he realised, that had been replaced with a kind of satisfaction. It had been buried, at first, under the tumult of emotion that had followed his release. _Probably the effect of  a sudden shift of humours_ , he reflected. Whoever had devised this enchantment was evil but impressive. Its effects on his body were clumsy in places, but to manipulate the humours so - this was more than mind-control or crude blood magic, everything about him had shifted to orient towards pleasing Fenris and desiring him. The sudden drop in that bodily pressure was dizzying. And yet...

He knew he had done well. That's what he felt under that wash of emotion. He had pleased his master in pleasing Ayola, and it felt _good_.

 _Of course_ , he reflected, _'pleasing'_ _is a strong word. I've done what he commanded - I know it's not what he wanted at all_.

Fenris's chivalry on that front had been surprising, but only until Anders had understood what it was rooted in. This situation reminded the man too much of what it had been like to be a slave himself. Anders hoped Fenris was able to make peace with the solution he had found. None of this had been his fault.

 

***

 

Down in the bar, Fenris was on his third glass of the dark and foul-smelling drink the barmaid had given him when he asked for whatever was strong.

Perhaps it was selfish to be down here getting drunk when Anders was upstairs submitting to rape at his command, but the harsh burn of the alcohol and the light-headedness it brought was a relief.

"Maybe that's enough after this, OK?" Hawke said, eyeing him worriedly.

Fenris glared. Whatever Anders said, he could not quite forgive the way the man had freely ran his hands over the mage when they first met. Such things should never be done without asking. "It will never be enough," Fenris said gruffly, taking another long sip of the fiery liquid.

"He wanted this," Hawke said. "He said so."

"He doesn't know what he wants," Fenris said. "You do not know him as I do. He should be raging. He should be..." he gestured with the glass, "endlessly railing at the _injustice_ of all of this. Instead he begs to be allowed to serve. He," Fenris grimaced, "he yearns for my approval. He doesn't even like me! Before we came here he didn't even care to greet me in that blasted shop. And I... I now understand why. I have been... unjust." He closed his eyes against the memory of Anders staring at him with wide-eyed fear, reliving the punishment he had endured in the Circle - their Circle - no longer able to tell what was real and what was not.

Hawke sipped from his ale. "Everyone is unjust to everyone sometimes, I think. And if you're anything like the Fenris I know... well, I think you might have cause to have a few blind spots. He said some quite... harsh things, about mages, when he first arrived here. But the sight of people in collars and on leads in the streets got to him. And the... beatings, and other punishments. He's... well, he's quite an angry man. Conflicted. Sometimes he still says things that seem a bit... unjust. But part of being friends with someone is learning when to give a bit of leeway. What happened to you - you have a right to be angry about that. Whatever you said or did before, it was because you didn't know. And now you do, and the test is in how you've responded to that."

Fenris looked down into his glass. "By sending him to get raped."

Hawke winced. "I don't think he sees it that way."

"Because he is not himself," Fenris insisted. "He will never forgive me." He downed the rest of his drink.

 

***

 

Anders stayed with Ayola until his skin stopped buzzing and the abnormal sensitivity had drained away. It felt like the tension that had built up over the last five days had drained with it.

Lying on a bed, drinking wine and being fed fruit by a beautiful woman was not so very bad. Slowly, he had begun to feel more like himself.

Walking down the stairs to greet Fenris again was another matter. There were several empty glasses on the table he shared with Hawke and Fenris was slumped over, his head in his hands. It didn't look as though the elf were at ease with his decision.

"Hey," he said as he walked over to join them.

Fenris started, and when he looked up those big green eyes were full of misery and guilt.

"Did it work?" Hawke asked. "Are you feeling better?"

Anders' smile came easily. "Much. I'm not sure I'd say it was the best sex I've ever had in my life, but it was definitely intense."

Fenris hunched down lower over his glass.

"I'm fine, Fenris," he said, gently. "Really. I feel much better."

The elf straightened and pulled something like his usual blank neutrality across his face. "I am glad that you feel better for now. I am not sure you will be so at ease with what happened here when you are truly yourself again, but I am glad at least that you found some relief."

Awkward. This was so awkward. He wished Fenris didn't feel the need to acknowledge every little detail of what was fucked up about their situation so very frequently, but Anders was still floating a bit on his post-sex mellow and decided it was easier to feel happy for both of them.

"OK, well, good. I did." He looked around, frowning. "What time is it? I'm exhausted, but surely we only came here around lunchtime."

Hawke shrugged. "Mid-afternoon? Maybe four or five?"

Anders looked again at the glasses littering the table. "And just how many of those has Fenris had?"

"Enough," Hawke said, his tone blunt.

Anders sighed dramatically. "And you and Varric could still have spent several fruitless hours hunting for the Black Emporium. Come on," he said, "Let's get you home and try to sober you up."

"I am _not_ drunk," Fenris protested, wobbling slightly as he stood up from his chair.

Anders smirked at him, but said nothing.

"The Black Emporium?" Hawke said, "Is that what you've been looking for?"

"Well," Anders replied. "More like, we're hunting for the Esorekt and we're hoping the proprietor of the Black Emporium bought it, just like in our own world."

"But we cannot find it," Fenris said. "Because we do not have an invitation. No one seems to have an invitation. Or if they do, they won't tell us."

The odd look on Hawke's face caught Anders' attention. What he said next made Fenris look up as well.

"I do," Hawke said. "I got one after we returned from the Deep Roads."

"You, you what?" Anders said.

"Xenon likes customers with established mage sympathies and money to spend. I guess, with my family and, well, certain actions I've taken since arriving, he assumed the former. And after the Deep Roads I had the latter. So, yeah, I got an invitation."

Fenris looked between Anders and Hawke, despairing. "Why didn't you say? We - we could have avoided... we..."

"You didn't ask!" Hawke said. "I didn't know! Anders said you were looking for some magical object, but-"

"It wouldn't have made any difference," Anders said, and though the same well of regret opened up in him, he knew it was true. Maybe if they had known that first time when they met Hawke in the street, but... but by today it had been too late. "I needed this. I wouldn't have wanted to go back to Marian like I was. I don't want her to see me like that - and I told you that was no solution anyway."

"But at least there - at least at home we could get those things out of you, we could..."

"Yes," Anders said. "I hope so. I really do. But I don't think we would have figured it out in an afternoon." He put his hands on Fenris's shoulders to make him look at him. "This is _good_ news, Fenris. And now we have the time to act on it. Let's go back to the mansion, sober you up, and then head out. We could be home before midnight."

An uneasy thrill of excitement and worry ran through Anders as he said this. He wanted to be home. He wanted to be free of this world and its vile enchantments. He wanted to see Hawke... but he also didn't want to see her when he was still under this spell.  It was better than if he'd been faced with meeting her this morning - whining and writhing and begging Fenris for a fuck - but still. He didn't want her to know what had become of him. Didn't want any of their friends to know what he'd become.

But it was better than staying here. He hung on to that. If they got to the Black Emporium, if Xenon had the Esorekt, if everything _worked_ , he could get home, and then there was a _chance_ that the rocks could be removed without him instantly being found by the Templars again. A chance that he could be free.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders' hopes of getting to the Black Emporium before midnight are confronted with the obstacle of a very drunk Fenris. And Anders finds he doesn't mind putting off returning to his own reality a little bit longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap. I'd been driven forward to get Anders to, well, a climax, and then I guess my brain needed a little break. We're getting there, though...

Anders and Hawke guided a weaving Fenris back to the mansion between them. Walking out into the cool evening air seemed to have helped the alcohol saturate his brain.

"Why did you let him drink so much?" Anders asked, peering at Hawke awkwardly over Fenris's shoulder.

"I think the idea of me _letting_ Fenris do anything is a very generous one," Hawke said, "but I suppose I also thought he'd know his limit. I've seen him drink before, but not like this."

"'M fine," Fenris muttered.

"Sure you are," Anders replied. "You can't walk straight, but you're perfectly fine. Let me know when the headache kicks in and I'll help you with the pain."

Hawke opened the door ahead of them while Anders steered Fenris over the threshold and into a chair.

"Can't you do something about that?" Hawke asked, waving a hand in Fenris's direction. "Heal him or something?"

Anders raised his eyebrows. "You can't heal drunkenness, Hawke. You can heal a headache, you can soothe the effects of dehydration, but the body needs water to go in and the alcohol has to work its way out."

Hawke ducked his head. "Sorry," he said. "I've not known a lot of healers. If you don't - well," he cleared his throat, "if you don't own a mage you have to go to the Chantry for healing, usually, and..."

Anders closed his eyes. "Right. Great. Of course." Oh to be prized for healing. Kept hidden away and tightly under control. "It's so lovely to be wanted. Anyway." He rubbed his hands over his face and opened his eyes. "Maybe you could get Fenris a glass of water? A big one?"

Hawke nodded and sheepishly departed.

Sighing, Anders pulled over a stool and sat next to Fenris. "What did you drink?" he asked, trying to find his patience.

"Don't know," Fenris said. "It was dark and strong."

"Oh, dark and strong. That narrows it down. Did you have anything to eat?"

Fenris started to shake his head, but then nodded. "Some cheese. Hawke ordered some cheese."

Cheese wasn't exactly going to do much to soak up the booze. Anders raised his voice: "Hawke, bring us some bread through as well."

Fenris was frowning when he looked back. "We-" he hiccupped, and his frown deepened. "We are wasting time. We should go to the Black Emporium."

A spike of anxiety ran through Anders. He tried to ignore it. "Not with you like this. We have time. You don't want to go back home like this. As I recall it wasn't a very pleasant experience moving between worlds sober. And we need to have a proper talk about what we're going to do when we get there. What we're going to say about what's happened."

 _What we're going to say to Hawke_.

"We'll-" Fenris hiccupped again. "We'll tell them the truth. About everything. About what I - what I've done." Uncharacteristic emotion was filling Fenris's voice. Anders knew he should be sympathetic, but he did want to roll his eyes a bit.

"You haven't done anything, Fenris," he said. "And anyway, I'm not sure that _I_ want them to know everything."

Fenris nodded. "Of course. You do not-" another hiccup. "You do not wish Hawke to know that you laid with a prostitute."

Anders groaned. "I'm not going to lie to Hawke about that, Fenris, but I'm not sure I want everyone to know the full extent of... of everything." _That I belong to you_. Although even as the idea of everyone knowing that he'd been sold and bought - that he'd become property - filled him with anxiety, there was also a pressure inside trying to persuade him otherwise. That it was natural for people to know. That it was nothing to be ashamed of. That it was bad to be ashamed.

It was too confusing. Focus on the task at hand.

"Anyway, you don't want to go back like this, no matter what misguided sense of honour is making your want to punish yourself right now. Hawke's going to bring you some water, and you're going to drink it. And then you're going to eat some bread, and Hawke's going to get you some more water. And maybe in a couple of hours you'll have a headache that I can cure for you and you'll be feeling more yourself."

Fenris continued to protest even after Hawke returned, but he drank the water and ate the bread as Anders instructed. Eventually his hiccups subsided and his eyelids began to droop.

Anders met Hawke's eyes. "Help me get him to bed. I don't think we're going to the Black Emporium tonight."

There was concern in Hawke's glance.

"To be honest, I'm exhausted, too, "Anders went on. "It's quite draining, being really, really horny." He tried to make it a joke with a smile, but Hawke's expression remained serious.

"Do you want me to stay? So we can get over there as soon as you're ready?"

Anders shook his head. "It's OK, we'll come find you."

***

Hawke had helped remove Fenris's armour and then got him into bed before leaving for the night.

Alone at last, Anders looked longingly at the space beside Fenris. The unrelenting drive to persuade Fenris to fuck him had lifted, but Anders still felt a strong attraction to the man - a wish to be close to him, to hold him in his arms.

But Fenris had drawn a line and set up a pallet for him on the floor the previous night. He had to respect that.

Anders turned his back on the dozing elf and began to undress.

He started when he felt warm fingers on his arm. "You don't need to sleep on the floor," Fenris said, his deep voice even gruffer than usual.

Anders swallowed against the thrill and hope that coursed through him at the words. It didn't mean anything. Fenris had made it clear he desired nothing from Anders. This was just... kindness, perhaps?

He turned to face Fenris, "I don't mind," he lied, "If you'd rather...?"

Fenris shook his head, his eyes already closed again. "I know it bothers you, and I do not want you to sleep on the ground like a slave. Like you are beneath me. You are not beneath me. Now that the..." he waved a hand, "the drives are... less... I do not think it will cause the same problems as before."

"You're sure?" Anders asked.

"Mmm," Fenris nodded.

Tension - the slight, underlying sense of rejection - melted away into relief. "Thank you," Anders said.

Fenris didn't respond - possibly he was already asleep.

Anders finished changing out of his pretty shirt and tight black trousers, pulling the white trousers he'd had from the Chantry on as bed clothes. Then he climbed into bed on the other side from Fenris.

Almost without thinking, He drew himself up beside Fenris's back and laid an arm across the elf's chest. It just felt so right to fit himself snugly against Fenris's body like that.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

"Mm-mm," Fenris hummed a quiet no. He did not push Anders away this time.

Relaxing against Fenris's hard muscles and warm skin, Anders felt the most at peace he'd been since this ordeal started. Fenris had welcomed him into his bed. Fenris had not rejected his embrace. And he was suffused with a sense that he had taken good care of his master.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris wakes up in Anders' arms and discovers something new about the mage that he didn't know. After breakfast, they depart together for the Black Emporium at last...

Fenris awoke to a pounding headache. It took a few moments for anything else to penetrate through the throbbing pressure to his awareness, but as he dragged a hand sluggishly up to rub his forehead, he felt the loose grasp of someone else's fingers slip away.

 _Anders_.

They were sharing a bed again, and he could feel, now, the warm comfort of Anders' body pressed against his.

Thankfully, this time, there was no hard length resting firmly against his back. Anders seemed sound asleep, and now that Fenris was aware enough to listen, he could hear the mage's slow and even breathing.

Good. Anders deserved whatever rest he could get.

As gently as he could, Fenris disentangled himself from Anders' embrace, stifling a moan as the ache in his head intensified.

The mage looked different somehow. At peace. Strands of strawberry blonde hair falling carelessly over his face.

Anders had only worn the flimsy trousers he'd been given by the Chantry to bed, and his shoulder and the top of his back were bare and naked above the covers. A tracery of straight, raised scars marred the mage's skin - the sign of a bad and poorly administered whipping.

 _Shouldn't see marks like this_ , he recalled Danarius's Slave Master saying as they looked over a slave in the pens. _That's bad practice. A whipping? You do it just between the shoulder blades, and it shouldn't break the skin. You break the skin, you get scars - you can hurt a slave plenty bad enough without scarring. This? This is sloppy work. Why are you showing my master this trash?_

Danarius had not bought that slave.

Whoever had whipped Anders had either not known or not cared to know how to do it without scarring.

And the mage had never said a word. Not in all his rants against the Chantry. Not when he had described his time in solitary confinement.

 _I've been fortunate_ , he remembered Anders telling Sebastian when he'd been needling the man about why he was so angry. _It's not about being beaten or raped by a templar - that does happen, but I've been fortunate._ Had Anders really believed that - that he had been fortunate? Or had he merely been deflecting attention away from himself and towards his cause - his belief that everyone should be free.

And it was about everyone, Fenris realised, belatedly. In his memory, he heard Anders' words more clearly than he had the first time. He spoke so much about the rights of mages that it had been hard to hear anything else, but he hadn't simply said that every mage should be free. He had said... he'd said: _It' s a larger principle: the freedom every man, woman, and child born in Thedas._

 _How did I misjudge him so badly?_ Fenris wondered.

And then was startled out of his reverie as Anders twitched and moved.

"Morning," Anders said.

Fenris met he eyes and saw that Anders had caught him looking at the scars.

"Sorry, I forgot that you wouldn't know about that," he said. "Not what you want to see before you've had your breakfast, I suppose."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Fenris said, before he could stop himself.

"Because it didn't matter," Anders said, rolling away and pulling a shirt off the floor to conceal the marks from view. "I mean," he looked back over his shoulder, briefly meeting Fenris's eyes. "I suppose it matters now. Because you own me. And that includes my back. But given that you made such a point about not wanting to touch me..." he looked away.

"It matters," Fenris said, simply. "It mattered before."

Anders pursed his lips and took a moment before speaking again. "I told you things like this happened, I just didn't tell you they happened to me. It shouldn't have made a difference."

"You could have shown me - you could have proved it," Fenris said - again speaking before he thought.

Anders' golden eyes were hard. "You could have believed me," he said. Then he stood to walk from the room.

Fenris caught his hand - an impulsive gesture that never would have occurred to him a week ago. "I'm sorry," Fenris said, hoping to convey the sincerity of his words. "You are right. I should have believed you. There is much that I... wasn't ready to hear. But it shouldn't have taken something like this-"

Anders cut him off, but his look was not unkind. "It's fine, Fenris. I understand. Let's just get up and have some breakfast."

 

***

 

"If the Esorekt is in the Black Emproum," Anders said as he spread jam on his bread, "and if everything goes perfectly, we'll still probably end up in different parts of the city. It'll be reassuring, I suppose, to wake up in my clinic and know that it's really there. Maker - I hope it's been OK. All those people I left behind without notice..."

"They will understand," Fenris tried to reassure him. "Perhaps Hawke will have arranged something in your absence. She always has more healing potions than she needs."

"Not everything can be fixed with a healing potion," Anders replied.

No, that was true. Although Fenris selfishly wished that he had one to hand. After the awkwardness of their earlier discussion, he hadn't wanted to bother Anders with curing his hangover, and though he knew he should eat, he felt a little queasy looking at the bread before him.

"Anyway, the point is, we should aim to meet somewhere," Anders went on. "I'd say the natural place is Hawke's. There's a secret passage from the Clinic to her cellars, and you're only a few streets away. With any luck, we should arrive at about the same time."

"How do you feel," Fenris asked, "about seeing her?"

A slow, almost shy smile spread over Anders' face. "Nervous," he admitted. "Hopeful. Terrified. I hope she's not been too worried about me. And I think maybe you had the right of it yesterday. We should just tell her everything. It'll be incredibly awkward, but I don't know that there's any way around that. Don't worry," Anders said, flashing him a smile. "I'll make sure she knows you're not at fault." And then, when Fenris started to protest, he added. "You're _not_ at fault. Which reminds me..."

Anders reached across the table and a brief flicker of blue flashed across his palm before he paused. "May I? I assume you're feeling the effects of whatever it was you drank too much of yesterday."

Fenris snorted and waved a hand. "If you like."

"I do!" Anders said, smiling again. It was good to see him so much more relaxed than he had been. And as cool healing magic washed over him, Fenris felt some of the tension leave him as well.

"Anyway," he went on. "I just want to be honest about what's going on with me. I'm not going to be able to hide it if these things are still in my body a few days from now. I still think it'll take us time to sort things out even after we're home. Getting home just means I won't get caught again the moment it's fixed. That and being with Hawke, I guess." He was smiling again. It was good to see him smile.

"Thank you," Fenris said, "For the healing."

"Yes, well, don't drink that stuff again," Anders said. "And eat up. I want to get moving."

 

***

 

Hawke was a bit bleary-eyed when Bodahn fetched him downstairs to meet them, but he didn't complain. He led them off into Darktown via the cellar, a rune-inscribed invitation in hand.

"You think this will bring the Fenris I know back?" he asked, as they moved swiftly through the sewers.

"I hope so," Anders said. "Otherwise I don't know _what_ happened to him."

Hawke looked relieved. "Good," he said. "I hope he's been OK."

"Hawke - I mean Marian - Marian will have taken care of him," Anders replied. "She's good at rounding up strays and taking them in."

Anders realised he recognised the tunnels they were following, and a suspicion grew in his mind the further they went. Finally, they stopped, and as Hawke walked forward, brandishing his shimmering invitation, the rickety walls of the Black Emporium melted out of the darkeness.

Anders cursed, colourfully.

"What's the matter?" Hawke said, a little alarmed.

"This is where we were before," Fenris said. "On the first day."

"It was here," Anders added. "This whole sodding time - it was exactly where it is in our world. We just couldn't see it."

It was funny, in an odd kind of a way, but he also felt obscenely duped. They had been here - right here - six days ago.

Swallowing another curse, Anders sighed, and tried to ignore the churning in his stomach. "Come on then," he said. "Let's get this over with. Let's see if the old bat really can save us."

Entering down the creaking bridge was eerily familiar, despite the fact that the walls on either side could now be seen to be covered with runes.

"What's that?" came a warbling voice from ahead. "Who's this you've brought with you, today? _No access without_ invitation!" Xenon chastised.

"It's my understanding that you've given them access," Hawke said, leading the way. "Only in another world."

Croaked laughter echoed back at them. "What nonsense is this? Explain yourselves."

"They're not from here," Hawke continued, as they filed into the central room of the Emporium and stood before the Antiquarian's throne-like chair. "They say they bought an object from you in their world, and when they touched it together, it transported them here. I believe them."

Anders decided to stay quiet on the front that neither he nor Fenris had actually bought the thing. Using something without paying for it didn't seem like something that would endear them to Xenon.

"And what was this object _called_ ," the living corpse asked, his tone now intrigued.

"You called it the Esorekt," Fenris replied, stepping forward. "Only you told us that it didn't work. But it did."

" _Fascinating_ ," Xenon replied. "I do have an object by that name in my collection, and to the best of my knowledge, it doesn't work."

Anders' heart sped faster in his chest. "Will you let us use it, then? Please, I'm a mage, I can't continue to live here. Things aren't good where I come from, but they aren't as bad as this..."

"Interesting," Xenon said. "But this is a place of business, I need something from you in exchange."

"If the Esorekt is here," Fenris said quickly, "then it didn't move at all - only we did. You lose nothing by letting us use it."

Xenon huffed. "But I gain nothing either, while you profit."

"I can pay," Hawke offered. "You know I'm good for it, name your price."

Hacking laughter answered him. "I'm not interested in money, on this occasion. I think you are in possession of something much more valuable. To me, the Esorekt has been a very _charming_ paper weight, but you claim to have transformed it into a priceless artefact that can send people from one world to another. _That_ is knowledge worth having. Tell me - what makes you different, so that it would work for you and not for me?"

Anders and Fenris exchanged a glance. "Well," Anders hedged, "We don't know for sure. We didn't trigger it on purpose, but..."

"But you are confident that you can _trigger_ it again," Xenon said. "Why is that?"

"It's me," Fenris said, drawing attention back to himself. "When I was a slave in Tevinter my master carved raw lyrium into my skin. It has granted me great strength and other powers, which I used to defeat his enemies. I believe the lyrium may have activated the artefact somehow, and because Anders touched it at the same time he was taken with me."

Anders held his breath. They did not know if that were the case, or if it were the full truth. It was definitely possible that the presence of a spirit of Justice had had something to do with triggering the device to send them from one reality to another, but as they had so far managed to conceal Anders' spirit possession from everyone in this world, it would likely be better if they were not forced to reveal it now.

"How _remarkable_ ," Xenon replied to Fenris. "I should dearly like to know how that was achieved! But," the Antiquarian added hastily as Fenris bristled, "That was not a part of our bargain. You have at least given me much to think on. I wonder if a large enough quantity of lyrium would suffice, or if it must be embedded in the skin," he mused.

"May we use the item, then?" Fenris pressed.

"Yes, yes," Xenon said. "It is back there, somewhere, in amongst the other enchanted miscellany. The Urchin can show you."

A silent boy stepped out of the shadows and darted forward, beckoning them.

"Thank you, Xenon," Hawke said, as they passed him.

The Urchin led them into a dark corner and pointed.

There is was. Small and dark and crusted with runes, a slender point rising from it, like gnomon of a sundial.

"I hope this works," Fenris muttered.

"Thank you," Anders said, turning to Hawke. "For all your help, really."

Hawke ducked his head. "It was the least I could do."

"Take care of yourself," Anders added. "And the other Fenris - I hope our world has been kinder to him than, well..."

"I will, " Hawke promised.

"Are you ready?" Fenris asked. He was holding the Esorekt by its base, large green eyes looking to Anders.

Anders nodded. "Are you?"

"So very ready," he replied.

"Goodbye, Hawke," Anders said, giving the man's shoulder a squeeze in parting.

"Goodbye, Anders, Fenris," Hawke said.

Fenris nodded his goodbye, then caught Anders' eyes again. "We need to do this at the same time," he said, raising one lyrium-lined finger.

"Yes," Anders said, raising a hand to grip Fenris's arm, and then raising the other to meet Fenris's above the point of the Esorekt. "Do a count."

Fenris nodded.

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

Their fingers pressed down together, and the world spun in darkness.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Hawke are reunited. They have a lot to discuss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm increasingly conscious of all the plot holes and typos in this fic. I can only apologise. I've been pretty unwell writing most of this and it's basically coming out as is. I hope when it's done I'll have time to go back and fix things (like the fact that Anders and Fenris didn't even think about saying goodbye to Varric in the last chapter...).

Anders came to in his own bed. The world was spinning and his head ached, but he could feel the scratchy fabric of his blankets beneath him, and it was blessed.

Groaning against the nausea, he pulled himself up and looked around.

His clinic. He was in his clinic. Exactly where it was supposed to be. Here was his writing desk, piled with scraps of uneven paper bought for coppers in Lowtown Market. There were the neat rows of cots where on any normal day his patients would be waiting or resting. His dried herbs were hanging in the corner where he made his potions.

It was clean and neat and perfect.

Looking behind him, Anders pushed aside the bit of wood that hid the alcove where he kept his mother's pillow and gasped out a sob when he saw that it was still there. For a moment he was a lost and frightened child again as he pulled it close and squeezed it in his arms. After all these years he knew it did not smell like her anymore, but it smelt like itself - real and present and faintly of dust.

It was all real. All the little traces of a life lived. A life where he made a difference and lived free and people came to him for help and he healed them.

Amongst everything else it had been hard to focus on the horror of his own absence in that other Kirkwall. Of the life he had not lived. The people he hadn't known. The people who had not known him. The sad and sorry state of the huddled homeless who had livid among refuse piles where his clinic should have been.

He felt it now. His throat closing around grief for that other Anders who, one way or another, had never made it out of the Circle in Fereldan. Who was maybe still trapped there. Or maybe dead. In his heart, he suspected the latter. He didn't know if he could have lived such a life - with no hope of ever being free, no possibility of escape.

Wiping dampness from his cheeks, Anders forced himself to focus. He had promised Fenris they would meet at Hawke's. He had to be there, to let Fenris know that he was safe. And to see Hawke.

His heart sped fast in his chest. Some of his earlier trepidation still remained, but now that he was here - really here - and knew that Hawke was only a short walk away... He had to see her. Had to hold her in his arms and make _that_ real, too.

Putting the pillow gently down on the bed, Anders got to his feet and made for the door.

When he opened it, he startled a young woman who was leaning up against the clinic wall.

"Healer!" she exclaimed. "It's so good to see you! Will the lantern be lit today?"

Guilt stabbed at him. His first concern should be is patients, but he couldn't stay to help them now. "I'm sorry," he said. "Maybe later, but I don't know."

"Please, Messere, my brother's got the cough, and-"

"I'm sorry," he said again. "Really I am. I'll open as soon as I can - watch for the lantern - but I can't promise anything today. I'm so sorry."

Half his heart yearned to say fuck it and stop to help the girl and her brother, but even if he weren't also pulled to reunite with Hawke, he had made a promise to Fenris, and with the enchantment he was under he couldn't have stayed even if his whole heart urged him to.

Her understanding nod smote him. "Of course," she said, though her expression was pained. "I'll watch for the lantern. Thank you, messere."

 _What a thing to thank me for_ , he thought as he turned away. _I've done nothing but dash your hopes_.

But there was no helping that now. He made his way to the concealed passage and up the familiar stairs that would take him back to Hawke.

 _Slavers lived here_ , he recalled. He had been with Hawke when they'd cleared those bastards out. It had been good. Good to help her reclaim her family home. Good, in an abstract way, to have cleared out a group of slavers, but had he really understood what that meant? That these were people who stole men and women - probably children too - from their families and their lives and sold them to others to be used as things.

 _I should have burnt them alive._ The violence of the thought startled him. Since coming to Kirkwall he had focused on healing, leaving many of the offensive spells he had drawn on as a grey warden behind. But yes, fury bubbled within him when he thought of slavers living in what should have been Hawke's home, and a part of him did wish he'd given them a harsher death.

When he opened the door into the main house, Anders could have wept again. It all felt so normal and peaceful.

 _It feels like home_ , he thought. _But I am not normal again. Not yet_.

He hoped she was here. What if she wasn't here?

"Hawke?" he called out as he headed for the hall at the centre of the house. "Hawke, it's Anders! Are you here?"

"Messere Anders?" He heard Bodahn's voice calling back.

_He recognises me. Thank the Maker!_

"Yes, it's me," he said, striding into the hall and grinning stupidly at the man. "Is she here? Is Hawke here? I have to see her."

And then, from behind him - from the landing of the floor above: "Anders!"

He turned, and there she was: Hawke. Dressed in the ridiculous monogrammed pajamas he had teased her about so often. "Hawke," he said, his voice strangling on the word as too many emotions rose to meet it.

And then he was bounding up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and sweeping her into his arms as she ran to meet him.

"Oh, Maker, Anders!" she said, her voice right next to his ear and her arms firm around him. He held her close and wished in that moment that he never had to let go.

He was home - he was home and Hawke was here. Surely, surely, everything would be alright now.

She was laughing and crying at the same time. "I was so afraid - I thought I might never see you again." She leaned back just enough to press their lips together in a kiss - closed-mouthed but so full of longing, pressing together hard as she pulled his head down to her, fingers in his hair. "I thought I might never see you again," she repeated, quieter now, and she pulled away to look at him. "I was so worried."

Anders smiled. "Me too," he said, feeling almost dizzy under her attention. "For a while... for a while I really just didn't see how we were going to get home. It seemed like..." But his throat closed over the words and he shook his head. It didn't matter. It didn't matter now.

She pulled him down for another kiss, then let her fingers slip down from his hair to his neck.

Where she stopped. He could feel her tracing the shape of the bump there, and it was like cold water in his face. He wasn't ready to talk about that yet. _Just a few moments longer - please_.

He didn't know who he was begging, but they didn't seem to hear,

"Anders," she said. "Oh Anders, no."

He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Anders, look at me."

He shook his head.

"I know what this is," she went on, and Anders found he didn't know if that made it better or worse - he only knew he couldn't speak now if he tried. "The other - there was another Fenris here, while you were there. He was - he was very confused, at first. He didn't know me. He came to the estate, asking for another Hawke - a man whose first name was Garrett. I didn't understand it at all until - until mother said..."

"She said that that's what they would have called you if you were a boy," Anders finished for her, not opening his eyes.

"We pieced it together. Painfully - it was so confusing at first. We knew that Fenris wasn't Fenris, but not why. And we tried to find you - we thought maybe you could help - but no one had seen you at the clinic. But Lirene said you'd just had a big donation, and," there was a waver in her voice, "and you were..."

"I was going to the Black Emporium. For healing herbs," he remembered.

"Xenon put together the rest," she finished. "You and Fenris fooling around with some Avaar object that was meant to send people to other worlds, and there was a Fenris, who seemed to be from another world. But there was no _you_ Anders." She pulled tightly against him again. "There was no _you_ here. And I didn't know what had happened. Maybe you didn't make it. Maybe you were _lost_. And Fenris said - he said - in his world, the mages are slaves. And they put these things in you..." Her fingers pressed down on the hard lump in his neck as she clung to him. "What have they done to you? What have they done to you - my Anders?"

"What he said they'd do," Anders replied, in a voice with no breath. "It, ah, it's an enchantment."

She took a couple of deep breaths and seemed to steady herself. Hawke pulled back, and Anders opened his eyes to meet hers. "Did the Chantry have you, then? Did they... they didn't - someone didn't..."

"Buy me?" Anders asked. "Yes, Hawke," he said. "Someone bought me."

She made a noise an looked away.

"But it's OK," Anders went on, hastily, "It's OK, it was Fenris. Fenris heard I'd been taken and he went to buy me from them - Fenris coming to my rescue, can you believe it?" He smiled, trying to make it a joke, but the attempt fell flat. "He just... he didn't know about the rocks. And we couldn't take them out. The Templars there, they have some way of finding mages that's better than what they have here. Even if we knew how to remove the rocks, they'd have come for me the moment they were removed."

Her blue eyes were rimmed with red, and he could feel her outrage in the tension of her arms about him. A crease knit her brow as she looked at him, and she moved slightly back to take in his clothes. "What are you wearing?" she asked, puzzlement in her voice, but also suspicion.

"Well, they - they took my clothes from me when I was caught," he hedged. "And, umm, I didn't like what the Chantry gave me very much, so..."

"Did Fenris make you wear this? To fit in, or..."

His stomach sank. "Don't you like it?" he asked. "It - it was kind of nice to wear something pretty for a change, if I'm honest, and-"

"Anders," she said, concern written in her voice. "Anders, the other Fenris said - he said there was more than one kind of sl-slave," she stumbled over the word. "I mean, that sometimes, there's another kind of enchantment, and..."

"Yes," he said simply. He knew what she was asking. "Yes," he said, his mouth dry. "They did that to me, too."

She made a noise and swallowed. "They...?"

"Yes."

"You you - you're under this... other enchantment, as well?"

"Yes."

Her moan was heartbroken as she pulled him back into her embrace. "Anders, oh Maker, Anders."

"It's fine, really," he said - because somehow you always have to say that things are fine when someone is upset on your behalf, even when it's obvious to everyone involved that they are not.

"But... but..." she pulled back. "Anders - it's been nearly a week. More than five days. The other Fenris, he said-"

 _Maker_ , he thought _,_ _here it is. I really hoped it would take a little longer to get to this. But she knows. She knows what I am now.  
_

"Look, I know - I can imagine what he said - please don't... please don't be too angry."

Her eyes were wide with shock. "Anders, I..."

The door to the estate slammed open and they both jumped, turning to look as Fenris walked in.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke jumps to conclusions.

Fenris halted inside the door to the main hall, staring at them, a mixture of relief and worry warring on his usually still face. "Hawke," he said, and then: "Anders, I'm so glad you're safe."

"'Safe'?" Hawke said. "You call this _safe_?"

Anders could feel her rage like a heat. She started down the stairs and he caught her wrist.

"Hawke, don't - whatever you're thinking, we need to talk about this. We need-"

"It's been six days, Anders," she said, and the look in her eyes was hard as iron. "Six days. And you look calm. You don't look how he said you'd be if it had been more than five days and nothing had happened." She jerked free of his grasp and stalked down the stairs towards Fenris.

"Hawke, please."

She ignored him.

And Fenris simply stood, waiting, his head down, awaiting punishment.

"What did you do?" she demanded, her pace quickening as she leapt the last few steps and strode across the floor.

"Hawke, stop!"

She slammed into Fenris, forcing him bodily back. He didn't resist at all. Anders knew he could have shifted his stance and been an immovable rock if he'd wanted, but he let her throw him against the wall like a doll.

Spiked fear shot through him. A tumult of thoughts and feelings chased after it.

Someone was attacking his master.

Hawke thought Fenris had hurt him.

Bodahn and Sandal were watching - hearing everything.

Behind him, a door opened, and he knew that Leandra was there, seeing everything.

Seeing him dressed like a whore.

Hawke hadn't liked his clothes.

Everyone could see what he was. Hawke was telling everyone what had been done to him.

He was moving without thinking, dashing down the stairs after her - crossing the space in seconds but seeing her press against against Fenris for an eternity - her arm weighing down in the space at his throat where his neck was bare and unprotected by armour.

"Hawke, stop!" he yelled again, hearing the crack in his voice, then trying to force himself bodily between them. "He didn't _do_ anything! Please," he begged. "Please, can we not do this in front of your whole fucking _house_?"

Her eyes turning to his were dazed, but he saw understanding dawn. "I..." She looked back at Fenris, who was unresisting, looking down, taking his punishment.

"He _didn't_ do it," Anders said again. "Please. Please don't make me explain this in front of everyone." Anders felt a trickle of wetness on his cheek and realised he was crying. He brushed the tears away, and Hawke's eyes followed the motion.

"Of course," she said, stepping back, releasing Fenris. "Sorry, Anders, I-" She looked about, taking in Bodahn, with Sandal cowering from the commotion behind him. "The Library, then," she said, shooting a Fenris a sharp look before taking Anders' hand and leading him in that direction. "I'm sorry, Anders," she said as they walked through the door, and she squeezed his hand. "I - I just..."

He nodded, but pulled his hand free. He suddenly felt very weak. He needed to sit. Throwing himself into an armchair, he realised he was trembling.

"Anders, are you alright?" Fenris's deep voice - quiet and concerned - the first time he had spoken since Hawke had launched herself at him.

"You," he voice cut across him. "Sit there." She slammed the door shut behind him and pointed at a chair on the other side of the room.

Fenris said nothing, but obeyed.

"He _didn't_ do anything, Hawke," Anders repeated.

"No? But you said - you _just_ said that they put that other... that other _thing_ in you. And he told me how it worked." She was trembling, too, Anders realised, before she folded her arms across her chest and held them still. "The other _him_. He said that you would need," she grimaced, but lowered her voice. "That you would need to sleep with someone - your _owner_. Him. And if you didn't, it would destroy you. You don't look destroyed, Anders."

"No?" Anders said, finding his own anger a little now. "Oh good - I'm glad you're here to tell me how I feel. Obviously I'm just _fine_ , seeing as you can't see it just by looking."

"That's not what I meant-"

"He took me to the Rose, Hawke," Anders cut across her. He wasn't going to let this play out any further with misunderstanding and bullshit. "I spent days _begging_ him to fuck me, and he wouldn't. I was in pain and he wouldn't-" he caught himself before he let the depth of his bitterness and frustration leak into his voice. He mustn't criticise his master - Fenris. He mustn't criticise Fenris. "He wouldn't do it," he finished, more quietly. "And then _you_ \- the other you - you if you'd been a boy. _You_ suggested we go to the Rose. And we did. And I..." he laughed. It was so ridiculous that this had been his life - ridiculous to say it out loud. "I picked out someone for Fenris to tell me to sleep with. So. That's it. Sorry." He tried to sound sincere - he had been sorry at the time, it was just hard to find that now. Now when he was exposed and broken and all Hawke could seem to feel was anger. "I cheated on you, I guess. But not with Fenris. He wouldn't do it. He wanted me to have a choice."

She was staring at him. Less angry now, more shocked.

"You..." she took a deep breath and sighed it out. "You went to the Rose."

"Yes."

"You slept with a prostitute."

"Yes. Yesterday. Just before we figured out how to get home."

She took another deep breath and sighed it out.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry, Fenris," she said, glancing his way.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," he said, quietly. "I..."

"He's been a complete gentleman," Anders said quickly, before Fenris could find a way to make Hawke think less of him again. He could see the guilt written all over the man. "It's been very frustrating," he tried to make it a joke, but neither of them laughed.

Hawke sank down into the chair next to him. "I'm sorry, Anders," she said. "I've made it worse, haven't I?"

Had she? "I don't think it was ever going to go well."

"How do you feel now?" she asked. "I mean, does it..."

He pulled a face. "I guess I'm about as normal as I can be at the moment. I can't feel Justice. I... feel attached to Fenris - sorry, I can't help it." She reached across and squeezed his hand. "But right now it's more like... like a low level crush, I guess, rather than an overpowering need. I... don't like being away from him." It was galling to say these things, but she needed to know. They had agreed to be honest. "I want to make him happy."

Hawke glanced over at Fenris, and Anders followed her look. He was hunched in on himself, not looking at either of them. Nothing like his usual proud self.

"And, as you can tell, Fenris doesn't want that at all. Which has made doing what he wants a bit difficult at times."

"I didn't realise what it would do," Fenris said quietly. "I'm sorry, Hawke. I thought I could just free him. I was very stupid."

Hawke closed her eyes, collecting herself. "I know," she said at last. "Anders told me. Before you arrived. I shouldn't have gone at you like that. I should have realised that you couldn't do something like that." She stood and crossed over to him, crouching down beside him. "Really, Fenris," she said. "I'm sorry. You brought him home to me. I should have been grateful."

Fenris finally looked up. "We can be grateful when he is free of this curse."

She nodded. "Yes. Good." She stood and crossed back over to Anders, taking her seat again. "How do we do that?"

"We need to get the rocks out," Anders said. "We can't disenchant them while they're inside me anyway - we don't know what runes are on them. We need to take them out and destroy them so no one in this world can ever learn what they do." The next part he didn't like to admit, but he couldn't see any other alternative. "We need to find a surgeon."


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke, Anders and Fenris set off to see Varric about finding a surgeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick one because it is laaaaate, but I really wanted to put something out.

They needed Varric's help to find the surgeon. Anders had heard of one living in the city, but he never would have sought her out. He'd always regarded surgeons as butchers who did more harm than good. At best they meant well, but exposed their patients to unnecessary risks without even half the medical training of a creation mage. At worst they were con-artists who charged exorbitantly for operations that were as likely to kill as cure.

He didn't know where the surgeon could be found and he hadn't wanted to know.

He burned with the shame of that hubris now. He'd been so sure that magic would always be the best answer. So sure that there was nothing that he, as a spirit healer, would not be able to cure.

He could not remove the rocks from his body. He needed someone who could slice open the skin and take out what had been implanted inside him. Someone who could cut into his neck and operate on his spine - open the fleshy parts of his groin and remove something that he couldn't even feel from the outside.

Hawke caught his arm as they left the Library, disturbing his thoughts.

"Do you want to change?" she asked. "I know they took your coat from you, but I think I have a spare tunic and a pair of trousers that you left here."

Heat flooded his cheeks. She was being kind - or trying to be - but the thought of wearing the kind of clothes he had worn before turned his stomach. Everything he had was stained from wear and an endless parade of dirt and bodily fluids from his work at the clinic. It was all as clean as he could get it. But he had so little, and blood was as stubborn as a dye, and the water in Darktown rarely ran entirely clear itself, even after boiling.

The idea of dressing in a mottled, off-colour tunic and frayed brown trousers was appalling. Fenris could barely stand to look at him now - to dress himself like that...

Besides which, he _liked_ what he was wearing now.

And Hawke did not. She meant well - he knew she did. Some rational part of his mind understood her kindness in offering him his old, familiar things to wear, but...

But another part of him had wanted her to like the way he looked. To like how he could look, with a little time and attention. Without Justice persuading him that his looks were not important.

He swallowed. "No, I... Thank you. But I can't. I..." How could he explain?

"Hawke," Fenris said quietly, "I know these clothes are... different, but anything plain made Anders feel uncomfortable. He chose these." Fenris's eyes flicked to his, and then away.

He felt hot under their attention. Talking about what he could or should wear like it was up to them to decide and his feelings were only one factor to consider. A flash of anger boiled up in him, but he couldn't tell Fenris not to talk about him like that.

He jerked his arm from Hawke's grip and pushed past her. "Come on," he said. "Let's just go. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing."

"I just..." Hawke said, behind him. He could hear the regret in her voice. "We just don't want to draw too much attention. Anders - I didn't mean anything. You don't have to change if you don't want to. But maybe... maybe a cloak?"

He stopped. Closed his eyes. She wanted to cover him up. Hide him away.

 _No_ , he told himself. _Stop it. You're being unreasonable. She's right. Everyone will look at you, dressed like this. You can't have that. Can't have Templars looking too closely._

No. He really couldn't have that. With an icy spike of fear he remembered that he would obey them, now - second only to Fenris. They could have him in a moment. And if they realised he was a mage - if they asked him about the bump in his neck - could he even lie?

His mouth was dry.

"You're right. Sorry," he said, opening his eyes. "You're right, of course." He looked at her and saw her sadness. She didn't want to hurt him. She loved him. She was just trying to protect him.

She gave his arm a quick squeeze before hurrying off to get him something.

Fenris came closer and caught his gaze. There was sincerity in those large, soulful eyes. "She wants to protect you," he said, his deep voice quiet. "It isn't that you don't look good." He hesitated, then reached up to squeeze Anders' shoulder. "You do look... pleasing," he said, awkwardly.

Anders couldn't stop himself from snorting at that. Fenris was so uncomfortable in his role as master, and yet he earnestly wanted to say the things he thought Anders needed to hear as a slave. It _was_ funny, in a weird sort of way.

"It's OK, Fenris," he said, and tried to sigh out the stupid, complex, confusing emotions that were roiling around inside him. "I get it."

The elf held his eyes for a moment longer, then nodded, and stepped back.

Hawke returned soon after that with the promised cloak. Perhaps she had taken Fenris's words to heart - the cloak was well made, and even had a little embroidery on the hem. It still really didn't go with anything else he was wearing, but it didn't make him feel as drab and ridiculous as he had feared. He put it on and made himself smile at her.

"Let's go find Varric, shall we?"

 

***

 

That task, at least, was not difficult. Varric was in his rooms at the Hanged Man and turned round from his writing desk at Hawke's knock on the door frame.

When he saw Anders following Hawke through the door, his face broke out into a wide and genuine smile.

"Blondie!" he cried, getting up. "You old dog! You had us all worried. It's good to see you!" His eyes found Fenris, following behind. "And is this our own Fenris back at last?"

The elf actually smiled. "It's me," he replied.

"Better and better!" Varric said. "Come in, come in! All of you. Take seats! Tell me everything!"

They didn't tell him quite everything, but enough to catch him up and get the salient points across. In particular: their urgent need to locate a certain surgeon.

The tale had worn down some of Varric's elation in the telling, but he nodded with a confidence that was itself reassuring when he heard what they needed.

"Yeah, I've heard of her," Varric said. "Gets a mixture of Hightown people who for whatever reason want to avoid the Chantry healers and others who are sniffy about magic. Anyone who can't or doesn't want to go to the Gallows for treatment and who wouldn't have heard of what you do in Darktown - or who's afraid of going there. I know you take everyone, Anders, but not everyone's keen to go past your neighbours to get to you." He frowned. "Don't recall exactly where she camps out - I know it's in Lowtown, but I think I'll need to check in with my contacts to get the address." He looked directly at Anders. "Don't you worry, Blonide, we're going to sort this out."

"Thank you," Anders said, a little bit of the tension that hummed constantly in the background of his mind receding.

It was good to be back talking to his friend - his real friend. The one who knew who he was. The one who had subbed him for games of Wicked Grace and never expected Anders to pay him back. The one who had been with him through the Deep Roads, making up elaborate ways to punish Bartram after he'd stranded them there. Who'd made time after his own brother's betrayal to check in with the phobic mage who could feel the mountains above them and the walls closing in as well as the literal crawling presence of darkspawn approaching.

"I've missed you, Varric," he said. "There was another you, over there, and he was a good guy - he helped us - but he wasn't the same."

Varric flashed him a grin. "'Course not, Blondie," he said. "I'm one of a kind, even when there's more than one of me."


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke, Fenris, and Anders go to see the surgeon.

It was as easy to find the surgeon as Varric said. He sent out a messenger who came back within the hour. It almost felt too quick - everything else had been such a struggle.

And that was a good thing, Anders knew - to be able to move so quickly on such an urgent problem. But to actually be walking to the surgery so soon after they started looking sent his heart thundering in his chest.

He was going to have to tell a stranger what had happened to him.

Well. Not all of it. She wouldn't need to know what the rocks did in order to get them out. She couldn't know that. It was far too dangerous.

The surgery was at the end of a surprisingly well-kept alley in one of the better parts of Lowtown. There were even potted plants outside the door.

Inside there was a clean and well-kept waiting room. Two humans and an elf sat on the seats that lined one wall, and a young human man sat behind a desk near the door at the back.

In the quiet of the waiting room Anders felt self-conscious. Aware of his barely covered chest under his cloak. He stepped forward.

"Hi, I - uh, I need to speak with the surgeon," he said.

"Do you have an appointment?" the young man asked.

An appointment. Like in the healer's room at the tower. Most ailments could be dealt with swiftly with magic, but with a large number of people to serve you usually had to make an appointment to be seen.

Anders had never done that in Darktown. He didn't have the time - didn't have the space in his head to manage the administration as well as his patients. And he never had the heart to tell anyone to come back another day if he could heal them right then and there.

"Uh, no," he admitted. "No appointment. But it is urgent. Please - is there any way she could fit me in?"

The young man sighed. "She's very busy." He gestured to the people sitting on the chairs nearby. "As you can see, there are people waiting ahead of you, and she has surgeries scheduled later today. You really can't just show up and expect to be seen."

Anders' heart sank. Of course. Of course it had been too easy.

Hawke stepped forward beside him. "Is there any way she can make room?" Her hand drifted down to tap her purse.

Not her most subtle moment, but she got her point across. He rolled his eyes. "That _won't_ be necessary," he said. "I know you Hightown types are used to buying preferential treatment, but that won't work here. The surgeon sees people on the basis of need, and need alone."

"Of course," Anders said quickly. "I understand that - I really do. My friend's just worried about me and trying to help. I don't want to cause trouble, I just-"

He held up his hand. "Fine. Whatever. Take a seat. I'm not promising anything, but I'll have a word and see if Ada is willing to make time at all today. Can I take a name?"

"Anders," he said, quickly.

The man raised an eyebrow that suggested he'd heard of Darktown's healer, but he made no comment on it.

"Why don't you take a seat, then, Anders, and I'll have a word with her when she's done with her current patient.

Anders obeyed, Hawke and Fenris following suit, taking up most of the remaining space in the small, neat room. With their various weaponry and armour, they stood out rather starkly. Anders was used to all sorts making their way to his clinic - from refugees to the Carter - but he had the sense that a different sort of people came here. He recalled what Varric had said about not everyone being willing to go past his neighbours to get to him.

That brought a certain sadness. Many of the poorest of the city lived in Darktown themselves, but he hated the thought that people in Lowtown or the alienage might be put off seeing him for any reason.

Hawke brought him out of his thoughts by squeezing his hand. "It'll be OK."

He smiled. "I hope so."

It was good, at least, to have her at his side again. Close enough to touch. Close enough to hold hands. His frustrations from their fight had melted away. What had he even been mad about? They were back together, maybe just hours from normality, if the surgeon could fit him in.

If.

He felt the flutter of nerves in his stomach again and squeezed Hawke's hand tighter.

It was not a long wait. A woman carrying a small child emerged from the door at the back of the room, and the man behind the desk slipped in behind her.

The walls must have been good, as Anders couldn't hear anything of the conversation while they waited, but it was only a few minutes before the man re-emerged and found his eyes.

"The surgeon will see you," he said. "She's giving you her break."

"Thank you," he said, and meant it.

As he stood, he felt Hawke and Fenris rise behind him.

"No," the clerk said. "Just him. The surgeon offers complete privacy to her patients."

"It's OK," Anders said, quickly, catching Fenris's eye. Sensing his master's disapproval, Anders felt a reluctance to move settle over him. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on what was real over what was the spell. "Fenris, this is normal. Tell me you understand and that it's OK so I can go."

When he opened his eyes he saw shock and chagrin on Fenris's face. "Of course," he said, quickly. "We will wait for you here."

The enchanted reluctance lifted. "Thank you," he whispered.

He looked to Hawke and saw worry in her eyes. "I'll be fine," he said, forcing a smile. "This is good, remember?"

She smiled back. "Of course - we'll be right out here if you need us."

Not wanting to keep the surgeon waiting any longer, he turned and headed for the door.

The room beyond was only a little larger than the waiting room, but stone flagging replaced the packed earth. Easier to clean, he realised, and noticed that the floor was spotless. Not quite the butcher's dive he had always imagined a place where people were sliced open to be.

In the centre was a wooden table, hinged and tilted at the far end - the operating table, he guessed, and felt a shiver.

The surgeon stood to the side, looking at him with evident curiousity. She was a tall but slender woman with fire-red hair, wearing a clean white tunic and dark trousers. Her arms were folded beneath her bust.

"You're lucky," she said. "I don't usually make exceptions like this, but I had to see what had brought the mighty Anders out of Darktown to see the dirty surgeon."

He flushed and stuttered. "I-I need your help."

"Oh? I thought us surgeons were bloody butchers more likely to kill than cure - at least, that's what my patients tell me. The ones who dare to come here after they've been warned off by the Healer of Darktown."

 _Oh_. He supposed he had been rather open about his feelings in that regard.

"I'm sorry," he said, heat rising to his face. "That was uncalled for. In a lot of cases, magic really is..." The hard look in her eyes checked him. He couldn't afford to be anything less than humble. "But - but I can see that there are some things that magic can't do, and I - I really need your help. Please. I've come to you as a patient. I'm sure you have every reason to resent me - for what it's worth, I am sorry for any pain I have cost you - but if you could set that aside..."

Her look softened a little, and she unfolded her arms.

"Alright," she said, "I can be professional." She gestured to the chairs at the side of the room. "Why don't you take a seat and tell me what's wrong that can't be cured by magic."

He nodded and sat, his heart beating fast again at the prospect of talking about this.

"There are two... rocks. Stones, I guess, that have been... implanted in me. I need them taken out."

She looked at him, considering. "Where are these... rocks?"

He felt the heat in his cheeks again. "One in my neck." he raised a hand to rub at it. "And one... one in my groin."

She raised her eyebrows. "Your groin?"

"Yes."

"OK," she said. "What do they do? Why are they there?"

"I-" his voice faultered a bit. "I really can't tell you that. I'm sorry. I don't think you need to know. It shouldn't affect anything about removing them - that's all I want."

She pursed her lips, thinking. "Anders," she said. "I can see this is a sensitive matter, but I really do need to know as much as possible. Are they magic, in some way? There has to be a reason for them being there. How did they get there in the first place? It could affect what's involved in taking them out."

How much could he say without revealing too much?

"I..." he took a deep breath and tried to centre himself. "I was kidnapped. They... operated on me when I was unconscious. When I woke up, these were under my skin. I don't really know anything about the operation itself. But I'm sorry, I can't - I really can't tell you anymore about why they're there."

Her lips pressed together in a firm line, but she nodded. "OK. I'll need to examine you. Stand up for me?"

"Of course." He stood.

"You say there's one in your neck?"

He nodded. "Here." He ran his fingers over the now familiar lump on his spine, then let them fall.

The surgeon moved behind him and pressed warm fingers over the lump. He felt a small pressure as she pressed against it. "Does it give you any pain?"

Anders swallowed and shook his head. "No."

"Alright," she said. "I'd like to examine the other one, too.  Please could you remove your trousers and lie back on the table?"

Of course. It made sense that she would want to do that, but... "I don't think you'll be able to feel anything," he said. "I can't. It was sore after the operation, but I think it's quite far in."

She hesitated. "Anders, I know this must be difficult, but if I'm going to operate on you, I need to examine the area."

"Right," he said. She was right. He bent to untie his boots. It didn't matter, really. It was just an examination. He'd given hundreds, maybe thousands of similar examinations himself. There was nothing personal about it.

Once his boots were off and he'd removed his trousers, he lay down on the solid wood of the operation table.

"You said it was in your groin - are you able to be more exact?"

"Uh, behind my testes, I guess." He bent his legs and reached between them. He wasn't normally embarrassed about his body, but this couldn't be anything but awkward. His lifted his balls and penis with one hand and reached behind them with the other. "Beyond the perineum, further into my body."

"Alright. I'll need to touch you to examine the area. Is that OK."

He nodded, and withdrew his second hand. "Yes."

He felt the touch of her fingers and drew in a sharp breath.

"Any pain?" she asked.

"No," he said. "There was some soreness, the first day or so. But that's gone now."

"There's no scarring."

"No," he said. "They must have had a good healer on hand."

"Do you mind if I press on the area to see if I can feel anything?"

He grimaced, but said. "Go ahead."

The clinical press of her fingertips was completely professional, but still uncomfortable. He grunted a bit as she pressed more deeply in.

She pulled back. "Did that hurt?"

He shook his head. "No. Not really, just... a bit of discomfort."

"OK," she said. "It's as you said. I can't feel anything. You can put your trousers back on now."

She turned away while he dressed.

"You're sure they put something there as well?"

"Yes." Hard to mistake it, considering the effects, but he wasn't willing to tell her about those. "It's not just the soreness. They told me there was a second one, and I have... other reasons to think that it's true."

"Reasons you're not going to tell me about."

"No."

She sighed. "Alright." She turned to an open ledger that lay on a table to the side. "I can fit you in three weeks from today. Two o'clock."

He stopped in the middle of pulling on his boots. The bottom seemed to fall out of his stomach. "Three weeks?" That was... that was three more cycles. Three more times he would have to sleep with someone. Three more times he would have to go through the experience of slowly loosing his mind, becoming obsessed with a man who didn't want him.

"Yes, Anders, three weeks." Her look was hard.

"But - but I... this can't wait. I'm sorry. I'm sure you're busy, but..."

"It can't wait," she said, folding her arms again, "But you won't tell me why. Is it life-threatening, what these things are doing to you?"

"I - no," he admitted.

"Because I have urgent - really, truly urgent, life-saving operations that need to happen," she said. "I have people who have been waiting months for other operations that will help end pain they have been in for years. If you have a reason - if you can tell me _why_ I should reschedule appointments that are vital for other people - then _tell_ me. But at the moment, you look perfectly healthy. And you're asking me to operate blind on very sensitive parts of your body. You want me to operate on your _spine_ \- to do exploratory surgery on your _groin_. I'm not doing that without a spirit healer present. Whatever you think of surgeons, I'm not stupid. Things could very easily go wrong very quickly. That thing in your neck feels stuck solid - I don't know what it will take to remove it, and I'm going to have to find out while I'm operating on your _spine_.

" _You do not want me to do that_ without assistance. Most operations I can manage with just a nurse. I can sew people up and they heal on their own in time. Not everything does require a healer. But this kind of thing... you could be paralysed. Or when I'm feeling around inside you for something you say is in the perenium, but I can't feel, I could cut into something _very_ sensitive. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He did. She was right. But... " _I'm_ a spirit healer."

"And you will be _unconscious_. Make no mistake, Healer of Darktown, you will be out for the count while I operate on you, and by the time you wake up, it will be too late." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I can see that you're worried. Even without knowing the details, I can see why this would be distressing. But I need a spirit healer on hand for this kind of operation, and without going to the Chantry-"

"You can't do that!"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not an idiot. They don't exactly approve of what I do here any more than you do - threatening their monopoly on healing - and I'm not going to invite them here while I operate on an _apostate_. I _do_ know someone," she went on. "But I'm sure you can imagine why they're not resident in Kirkwall. It will take time to arrange for them to be here."

"So," she said. "Three weeks. That's what I can give you for an urgent operation on incomplete information. That's the soonest I can make space for you in my schedule _and_ get a spirit healer to Kirkwall for. If you want my help, that's when you can have it."

The sinking feeling settled in his gut like lead. "OK," he said. "I understand. Thank you."

Her expression softened. "I'm - I'm not trying to-"

"I know," he said sadly, and forced himself to stand. "It's just going to be hard, that's all."

 

***

 

Hawke and Fenris did not take the news well.

Anders was at least able to get them out on the street first, having assured them that the surgeon would help and that he'd made an appointment.

"When, then?" Hawke asked as Anders closed the door behind them.

"Three weeks," he replied.

Her eyes flew wide. "What?"

Fenris's face was thunderous. "No," he said. "Absolutely not." He started for the door, and Anders felt panic rise.

His master was displeased. He'd done something wrong - very wrong. He could feel walls closing in around him and he had to fight to focus on the fact that Fenris's anger wasn't directed at him - that he just didn't understand.

"Fenris, please," he said, trying to control breathing that was becoming more ragged. "Please, it's OK. Let me explain. _Please_." He felt unsteady on his legs and had to lean against the wall. Trying to focus on the warm gritty surface of the wall to ground him. _Punishment_. He was being punished. He could collapse right here in the street, And-

"Anders?" concern in Fenris's voice - and fear. Then hands on his arms, holding him up. "Anders, look at me. I'm not angry at you. I don't want you to be punished. Please look at me."

Anders swallowed and forced himself to look up into green eyes.

"I'm not angry with you," Fenris said, carefully. "You haven't done anything wrong, do you understand."

He was still breathing hard, but he felt the walls recede. It was OK, he wasn't going to be punished. Fenris wasn't mad at him. "I understand," he managed to croak out.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Hawke's worried voice over Fenris's shoulder. "Anders!" She was pulling at Fenris to push him away, and Anders closed his eyes. Was he going to have to explain this, now, too?

"It is the rocks," Fenris said. "I - should have been more careful. They... punish him if they think I am displeased. I'm sorry, Anders," he said, and the gentle squeeze on his shoulders was a comfort. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm OK," Anders said, forcing himself to open his eyes and look at them both. So worried for him - it made him sick. "I just need you to accept this. You're not a healer, you don't understand. But I do. There are other people waiting. People who are dying. She can't just set them aside for me."

"Surely not everyone is dying. Didn't you tell her what's at stake?" Hawke demanded. "If she knew..."

" _No_ , Hawke," he said, quietly but firmly. "And I'm not going to. She can't know. No one can know what power these things have. _No one_." He looked at Fenris. "Tell me you understand. The power to enslave people..."

The elf's expression was pained, but he nodded. "I understand," he said, his voice hoarse.

"But, Anders..." Hawke protested.

"I'll be OK," he said, although he wasn't at all sure that was true. "It's just three weeks. It could be a lot worse. Please, Hawke. Let this be my decision."

She held his eyes for a moment, then yelled in frustration and turned away.

When he looked to Fenris, he could see redness in the man's eyes and a glisten that hinted at tears.

"I'll be OK," he said, with a confidence he didn't feel. "I can go to the Rose again."

Fenris gave a sharp nod, but didn't answer. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he let go of Anders' shoulders to brush hem away.

"You are sure this is what you want?" Fenris asked.

Anders nodded and tried to smile. "I'm not saying it's my ideal outcome, but it really is the best we can expect. And I... please - I don't want you attacking her for being fair and honest about how she treats people."

"Anders, it's not-" Hawke began, but stopped herself. She let out an explosive sigh. "It's your choice." She looked hard at Fenris, and something seemed to pass between them, but when she looked back to Anders she said it again: "It's your choice."

Not much of a choice, but he was relieved they had allowed him to make it.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke struggles to accept the idea that they must wait three weeks for the operation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A change of POV. I've been sticking to Anders and Fenris, but I think we need to get a bit inside Hawke's head to understand what she's going through, too.

Hawke did her best to contain herself on the way back from Lowtown - for Anders' sake. The way he'd reacted when Fenris had tried to go talk to the surgeon had scared her.

She'd known this enchantment was bad. She'd feared for Anders when the other Fenris had explained to her what happened to mages in his world. She'd thought there could be nothing worse than the anxiety of _not knowing_ \- fearing that Anders was dead, or worse - but somehow, seeing it, and knowing there was nothing she could do was worse.

Seeing Anders' distress at the very thought that Fenris was displeased with him. The way he'd leant on the alley wall, boneless, all strength drained out of him in an instant. It made it real in a way she'd thought it already was, but hadn't understood.

It made her all the more determined to save him from this curse. He couldn't endure three more weeks of this. She wouldn't let that happen.

But she didn't want to distress him further by arguing in the street. She had to get him home. She had to let him rest. And then she would take Fenris aside and make solid plans to bring this to an end.

Once they were back at the estate, she settled Anders in the library and asked Bodahn to make them some tea. She held Anders' hand and reassured him as best she could. Eventually, she felt him start to relax and behave more like his old self. He tried to make light of his situation and reassure her that everything would be fine.

Fenris was very quiet, and when he excused himself to visit the bathroom, Hawke seized the opportunity to get him alone.

"It's getting on time for lunch, really," Hawke said. "I'll have a word with Mother and ask her to sort something out. You'll be OK?"

Anders rolled his eyes. "Yes, Hawke, I can manage a few minutes by myself."

She smiled, patted his hand, and left.

It wasn't really a lie. It _was_ getting on time for lunch, and she would find her mother and see if they could put something together, but first...

She met Fenris as he was making the his way back from the toilet.

"We need to talk," she said, and opened the door to a small sitting room where they could have some privacy.

Fenris tilted his head. "Without Anders?"

She nodded. "It's not ideal, but I don't want him to go through what happened in the street again."

Fenris's face was a still mask, but he nodded and entered the room.

The air was stale from disuse - the estate was really much bigger than their small family needed, and there were many rooms they rarely used.

"We have to go talk to that surgeon," she said, once the door was closed. "She has to see reason. I refuse to believe that everyone she has scheduled to operate on in the next five days will die if she has to reschedule."

"Hawke," Fenris said, quietly, "This is Anders' decision to make."

"Yes," she said. "And he's a selfless idiot who regularly works himself to the bone asking nothing in return. I love him. I admire him. But sometimes he needs someone to save him from himself. This isn't something I can just sit on the sidelines about. He's not himself. I can't... I can't just let him _live_ like this. _For three more weeks_. Are you really OK with that?"

Something flashed in Fenris's eyes. "No, Hawke," he said, his voice low and charged. "I am not 'OK' with that. I am furious. And I am scared. And I know far better than you just what he will go through. But I have made the mistake of trying to protect him from himself and I have seen what it does to him to restrict him even further. He _deserves_ to be able to choose what happens to him. He's as much himself as he's capable of being right now and he _has that right_."

Hawke's anger rose in response to Fenris's. The idea that she was the one not respecting Anders' freedom and rights. "So, what? We just allow this to continue? We allow him to be _raped_ , three more times - at least three. Just send him to the Rose and order him to fuck someone?" Her voice was rising, but it was hard to hold back. The more she thought about it, the more clearly she saw just how bad this situation was - how much worse it could get. That Anders could get in such a state that he would _need_ to fuck someone - even once. It was absurd. It was unconscionable. How could Fenris be willing to allow this, even once, let alone three times?

"Or perhaps you think you'll just deal with it yourself," she said. "Maybe you've got used to having him fawn all over you. Maybe you rather like the idea of having control of a mage like that. You know? I've defended you to him, but you've said in the past you had no problem with mages being slaves. I thought you didn't mean it. I thought you were just needling him. But maybe it's true-"

Fenris's hands closed hard on her shoulders and he slammed her against the wall, knocking the wind out of her.

"How dare you?" he said, green eyes glaring with fury. "You think I could want this? You think that I could _ever_ treat him like that? After everything I-"

Abruptly, he released her and turned away.

"I - would - never - use anyone that way," he said, breathing hard.

"But you let it happen," she said, her voice breaking. "You let someone take him when he couldn't say no." The flood of emotions that had been building since she first saw Anders that morning, choked her. The shock of feeling the lump in his neck under her fingers and realising what it meant. Or thinking she knew - understanding so much more as the day went on and she saw just how deep the power of this thing was. "Someone slept with him, and... and I don't even know who they are, but he submitted to that because you told him to. You..." she wiped away hot tears from her eyes. "You can't expect me to be OK with that, Fenris. You can't ask me to let him go through that again. Not when I could stop it. If that surgeon knew..."

"She can't know," Fenris said, turning back, his eyes wide. "Anders is right. This thing that they have done to him. No one can know. No one can know that it's possible to enchant a person in that way. I - I hate what it is doing to him. I hate having to see what it makes him feel for me. But when I think of it happening to other people. Hundreds. Thousands. And we could stop that - just by holding our tongues. You do not know what it is to live in world where slaves are everywhere, Hawke. I do. I have _been_ a slave. I have been so twisted by my master that I would kill my friends. My saviours. And I broke free - it was hard, but I _am_ free. When I think that that might not have happened. That I might never have had any choice. That rebellion could be not simply hard, but impossible...

"No one can know."

They stood, staring at each other, both breathing hard, until the silence was broken by the door slamming open.

Anders stood in the doorway, his face twisted with some emotion - grief? despair?

"I - I assume you are fighting loudly about what we should have for lunch," he said, his voice tight. "Because I'm sure you didn't come in here to talk about me. Without me."

He met Hawke's eyes and she felt the betrayal she read there like a punch to the stomach.

"Anders," Fenris said. "We didn't want to distress you-"

"Oh, so was it your idea, then?" Anders asked.

Fenris ducked his head.

"I didn't think so." Anders wiped furiously at his eyes and nodded. "Well. I'll give you the space you want. Talk about me as much as you like." He turned and left.

"Anders wait," Hawke said, running after him. "Where are you going?"

"Out. Anywhere. Not here."

"It's not safe." She reached out for his arm, but he pulled free of her grasp.

"It's Hightown. In daytime. I'll be fine." He looked pointedly at Fenris. "Can I go?"

Hawke looked to Fenris and saw him nod. "Of course."

Before she turned back, he was already walking away. In agony, she made herself let him go.

"I can't order him to stay," he said, after they heard the front door close behind him. "I did that once and it... I meant to protect him, but it was cruel and unworthy of me. It's just a spell, Hawke. He is a free man. He deserves his freedom. We have to respect that. It's the best thing we can do." He paused. "And it's the only thing I'm willing to do."


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders tries to find some peace in a quiet corner of Hightown. Hawke catches up with him, and they talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for any typos. I am tired and sick.

Anders found his way to Fenris's mansion almost by default.

He'd thought of going to the clinic, but he almost didn't want to sully the place with what he had become, with the stupid, misbegotten anguish that filled him now.

He was being so selfish, so self-indulgent. Justice never would have allowed it. He would have channelled the energy of all that rage and hurt into something practical. Something to help other people.

And Anders had selfishly let him, even though in his heart he knew it wasn't fair - that it might be corrupting Justice forever.

What was his pain doing to Justice now? Could he feel it? Locked away in that part of his mind that he just couldn't seem to reach right now?

The spirit's absence seemed that much more palpable in this world - the world where he _should have been_.

No. He couldn't face the clinic. Couldn't face the absence of Justice there. Couldn't take his stupid, pathetic whining down into what was supposed to be a sanctum of healing _for other people_.

So he'd taken it here. This dark, drab place where he'd done so many other stupid, self-indulgent things over the last week.

Had he really tried to seduce Fenris here? Oiled himself up like some sort of... well, like some sort of pleasure slave.

But no. He hadn't. This place bore none of the marks of his stay in Fenris's home.

The musty bodies still littered the floor. His frantic displacement cleaning hadn't touched these halls. They were dank and musty and depressing.

He hadn't embarrassed himself here. There was that comfort. But he also hadn't ever been made to feel welcome. In this world - in the real world - Fenris had never softened to him, never comforted him, never, for one tantalising moment pressed back into Anders' kiss...

This building, unlike the one in the other world, had only seen Fenris share glares and cutting remarks with him, on the rare occasions when Hawke had dragged him here.

No. This place had none of the comfort and security he had hoped to find. He turned around and left, a sense of deflation and despondence replacing the anger that had filled him before.

He wandered a little aimlessly for a while. He got a few strange looks, but not as many as he'd expected. Probably, they just thought he was from the Rose. Strange to feel relieved to be mistaken for a prostitute.

He skirted the market, which was too full of people, and made his way to the Dwarven Quarter.

It was quieter here. The large and blocky Dwarven statues were somewhat comforting. The didn't speak of Tevinter and _slavery_ quite so strongly as the rest of the city. The history of a different nation was written in those stone faces and solid columns.

Anders found a quiet, sunny corner at one of the statues' feet, and sat down, leaning his head against the warm sandstone.

He closed his eyes and sat, just trying to feel the sun and listen to his own breathing for a while.

There was too much to think about, and not enough point even trying. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he was willing to do.

He understood why Hawke wanted to tell the surgeon everything, but he just couldn't stomach it.

She had seemed a good deal more straightforward and honest than he had imagined she would be. She _seemed_ trustworthy. But he didn't know her. And how many people of those he _had_ known had come to betray him in the end? Even the Warden, for all her good - for all he had believed her when she said she wanted him to be free, when she said she thought mages should be equal to anyone else - even she had left. And that had been its own kind of betrayal. Because without her, there had been no one to protect him. And the precedent she had set of recruiting anyone and everyone who was willing had led so many former Templars into the ranks of the Grey Wardens and... well. He knew how that had ended.

You didn't have to mean to betray someone to let it happen.

Even if the surgeon never betrayed Anders - even if she freed him - if she ever mentioned to anyone what had been done... If it were even hinted... They might destroy the stones, but if the idea was there...

How long would it take to move from the knowledge that you could enchant a person by putting runed rocks in them to someone working out how it could be done?

No. He might have little enough to show for his efforts to free mages in this city, but he would not be responsible for enslaving them further.

"I can do this," he muttered. "Just three more weeks."

He wasn't sure how long he sat like that - thinking, and trying not to think - before Hawke found him.

A shadow passed between him and the sun and he opened his eyes.

"Hi," she said. "I know you wanted some time alone. I didn't follow you, but... I hoped maybe enough time had passed. Can we talk?"

His anger had worn away. Remembering renewed his frustrations, but at a remove from what they had been before. He nodded. "Yes, OK," he said. "I'm sorry. I know you've not had as much time to get used to this as I have. I shouldn't have blown up at you like that."

She sat down beside him. "No, you were right. It was wrong of me - to try to make decisions for you without you being there. It - uh," she swallowed, "It's hard. Imagining what you're going through and thinking that there's a solution right there..." she stretched out her hand as though grasping for something, "but being told I can't do it." She smiled sadly, and in the afternoon sun Anders could see the brown and gold glints in her dark hair and the crinkled lines around her eyes where she smiled.

 _Oh yes,_ he thought, as something stirred within him, _I remember now why I loved her - love her._

"You know what I'm like," she said, turning sardonic eyes on him, "When someone says I can't do something and I think there's a way that I can. I know it can make me a bit of a git sometimes." She held her hand towards him. "I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"

He took her hand in his and squeezed it. Anders nodded. "I understand."

"I won't do anything you ask me not to," she said. "But Anders... I don't know how to sit back and just watch you go through this. There has to be another way. Three weeks is too long."

"I've been through worse things that lasted longer," he said.

Unsaid things stretched between them. He didn't have to explain. She knew about the marks on his back. His time in solitary. He didn't talk about it much, but she knew.

"Let me help," she said, at last, rubbing her thumb along the side of his palm where they held hands. "I know what you said - about the Rose - but Anders... it doesn't have to be that way. I doesn't have to be with a stranger."

Anders shivered. Surely she didn't mean what it sounded like she was saying.

"It's better with a stranger," he said, stiffly, trying not to think about the fact that the workers at the Rose _here_ were not strangers in the same way that they had been in that other world. Not in quite the same way. He met her eyes. "Tell me you understand that."

She shook her head. "Anders... no. I don't. I know... I know it's not ideal. But you don't have to sleep with Fenris. You don't have to let him tell you to sleep with a stranger. I'm right here. You know me. You like me. He might still have to tell you, but you could choose when, and you could still choose someone that you _would_ choose, if things were normal."

Something sank low and cold inside him. She did mean it. He pulled his hand away from hers.

"And you would want that, would you?"

She looked away from his stare. "Not exactly, but-"

"Because let's be clear about this, Hawke - you're talking about sleeping with me when I can't say no. When I can't change my mind. Would you enjoy that? Could you get aroused by the idea of sleeping with me, knowing that the only reason I'd be doing it would be because Fenris said so."

"No - I... but Anders, it wouldn't be like that. If you weren't under this spell-"

"But I _am_ Hawke. I am. Right now. And for the next three weeks. My desires are not my own. You're still good looking. I still find you attractive. But I don't want to sleep with you. I want to sleep with Fenris." His voice was rising, and he had to pause to get a hold of himself. "I'm sorry," he said, after a moment. "I know that can't be easy for you to hear, but I need you to understand: whatever you think I would normally feel, _that's not how I feel right now_. And you can't just decide for me what I ought to feel. And you... even thinking about you going to Fenris and telling him to make me feel that way for you. It's not OK, Hawke. It's not. You're talking about making me sleep with you when that's _not what I want to do_."

She was shaking her head. "I don't understand. If - if that's true, I mean... surely you don't want to sleep with someone at the Rose either. If you only want to sleep with him - if you..."

"No, Hawke," he said. "I don't. But they wouldn't be sleeping with me as someone sleeps with a lover. They'd be doing their job. It wouldn't mean anything. They wouldn't be taking pleasure in my body, knowing that it's not something I want to do. I..."

Anders shook his head. Why was he even trying? The fact that she could even contemplate that...

He pushed off the ground - awkwardly, his joints stiff from too long sitting on the hard stone floor.

"I, umm... I can't talk about this anymore. I can't sit here and think about you... touching me - making me want you - I..."

"Anders, please, that's not what I meant-" She caught his hand, but Anders pulled free.

His heart was beating fast, and he realised he was trembling. "Maybe not," he said. "Maybe you really just don't understand, but - but then... I can't get my head around how it is that you think it would be. How you can think it could ever be OK." His mouth pulled down in a grimace, and he shook his head silently as he fought to find control again.

"I can't," he said, at last. "I just can't. Please just let me go this time, Hawke. Don't come after me. I'm going to Fenris's place. I'll be safe, I just... I need _space_. Let me have that. Please."

He could see that Hawke's eyes were full of tears, but she nodded. She pulled herself to her feet. "Yes," she said. "Of course. I'm sorry. I... said the wrong thing. Again. And I've made things worse. I don't want to hurt you in that way, Anders. I'm sorry that I - that I didn't understand - but I don't want that. Please believe me."

Too many emotions were rising up within him. He wanted to comfort her and say he was sorry and say he knew she'd never want to use him like that. Didn't he know that? Hadn't she just said it?

But she really hadn't understood. She would have slept with him and thought it was fine, if it were up to her. He shook his head. "Hawke I just... I can't think about this right now. It's too much. Everything's too much. Let me... let me think about it later. Not now. I can't. Just let me go."

She rubbed at her wet cheeks, but nodded. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry, Anders. I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawke just can't get it right.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris gives Anders a hug.

Anders felt numb, walking through Hightown - no, not numb: overwhelmed. Like the press of feelings inside had jammed him up against the edge of something so hard that he could no longer distinguish one from another.

He was crying. Tears were running down his face and anyone might see. He brushed at them, but couldn't seem to stop the flow.

Someone in the robes of a Chantry Brother called out to him as he passed: "Are you alright, serrah?"

 _Shit_ , he thought, _I can't deal with this right now_. "Leave me alone!" he said, curtly, and cursed himself for not finding something better to say.

Fortunately, the streets were quieter near Fenris's house, and with fewer people to see his shame. He felt like he could breathe more easily.

This time, stepping into the darkness of the ruined mansion was a comfort. Fenris had worked hard to make this into a place that people actively avoided.

He paused inside the door to gather himself and steady his breathing. The shadows were kind. They might hide the evidence of crying if Fenris was inside.

Feeling a little more collected, he walked into Fenris's main hall.

Everything was different.

The bodies were gone - not merely covered with white sheets as they had been in the other world, but gone entirely.

And the floor had been swept, and washed.

Fresh candles had been set in the sconces, lending an unexpected cheery glow to a room that had always seemed gloomy and foreboding.

The furniture had seen better days, it was true, but the difference to what this place had been a few short hours ago was dumbfounding.

Fenris was sitting across from him on a bench when he entered, elbows resting on his knees and head bent, staring down at the floor.

Now he looked up through his hair, and something stirred in Anders at the intensity of that gaze. Something that could imagine Fenris striding across to him now, taking him by the shoulders and throwing him against the wall - hands rising up into his hair, lips pressing down on his mouth and-

But that was not what Fenris did.

He stood slowly, uncertainly.

"Anders," he said.

"You tidied up," he said, dumbly.

"I did. It didn't seem fair, if you needed to be with me here, to make you live with that."

"Where are all the bodies?"

Fenris looked down, rubbing the back of one foot against his calf as though embarrassed. "I put them in the yard. I... would have burnt them, but I think the smoke would attract too much attention."

"Thank you," Anders said, surprised by the kindness.

He shrugged. "It was a paltry effort, but it was the least I could do."

"Thank you," Anders said again, sighing out some of the pain and anguish and tension. "I mean it."

"Did Hawke find you?" Fenris asked, and the knot seemed to tighten in Anders again.

"She did," he replied. "Although I almost wish she hadn't."

Fenris frowned and looked up, and Anders wished there were fewer candles so that it was easier to hide his face. The elf crossed the space between them.

"What happened?"

His heart was beating hard in his chest and he could feel heat behind his eyes again. "Do I have to tell you?" he asked.

"No," Fenris said, his brow now furrowed with deep grooves of concern. "Not if you don't want to."

"I don't," Anders said, his throat feeling tight, trying to push back against the memory of Hawke telling him she could be aroused by the thought of sleeping with him against his will - that she didn't understand why that was wrong. He could feel the tears rising - _how could she want that?_ "I - umm..." He swallowed. "I know this is awkward for you, but could you just... hold me? Please. Just for a minute? I - I just..."

He closed his eyes and felt another tear fall down his cheek. It was so galling. He was such a mess, but he couldn't seem to stop.

Strong hands took hold of him. Fenris's arms slipped under his and pulled him close.

"Of course," Fenris said, his deep voice close to Anders' ear, now.

The comforting press of Fenris's arms about him broke down the last of his resistance, and he let out a sob.

"I'm sorry," he said into Fenris's hair. "I-"

"Shhh," Fenris said softly. "You do not have to explain."

No, he didn't. Not with Fenris. Fenris understood. Anders had begged Fenris to fuck him - to relieve the pressure that had wound him to breaking point - but he hadn't been able to. Fenris couldn't sleep with someone who couldn't refuse him.

It wasn't that he wasn't interested. Anders had seen a look in his eyes that spoke to attraction, and he had felt the man respond when Anders had been at his most insistent. But still he had refused - had even run from the room because the thought of using someone like that had appalled him so.

Fenris _understood_. And more: he felt the wrongness of it. And for all that Anders wished he didn't - that the man would share with him the affection he craved - that refusal was a relief and a comfort now.

Safe. Fenris made him feel safe.

"Thank you," he whispered, and held Fenris closer.

Fenris held him patiently, the firm muscles of his arms pressed about Anders in a protective circle, leaving it up to him to decide when he was ready to break the embrace.

Eventually, Anders' heart calmed and he straightened, releasing the elf and wiping his eyes.

"I have some stew," Fenris said. "Bodahn made it - it will need heating up, but I thought you would like something more than what we've been eating for the past week."

 _More than bread, cheese, and apples_. Anders smiled. "That'd be nice."

Fenris led the way to the kitchen and allowed Fenris to serve for him - the thought that he should have been the one to look after Fenris assuaged by the fact that it clearly pleased Fenris to care for him. The attention was reassuring. Fenris cared about him.

A scene like this would have been unthinkable a week ago, but it was a relief, now. A comfort.

The stew was simple, but it was hot and savory. It was good. Needed. Especially when Anders realised that he had missed lunch entirely.

Afterwards, they talked. Three weeks of waiting lay ahead of them, and they no longer had the task of finding a way home as a distraction. Anders wanted to return to his clinic. He was worried about the sickness that had been spreading in Darktown when he left, and about those who would have needed him while he had been gone.

Fenris offered to help him restock on herbs, and Anders felt a pang for the generous donation that had been lost when the Chantry took his clothes and belongings from him.

They agreed that neither of them would go on any dangerous missions with Hawke in that time. Anders had calmed down enough to hope for the best, rather than fearing the worst of Hawke. It still troubled him that she hadn't seen what was wrong with the 'solution' she had proposed, but he tried to find reassurance in the fact that she had seemed genuinely shocked when he explained it to her. He didn't want to avoid her entirely, but the types of jobs she accepted could rarely be called safe. Fenris didn't want Anders to risk himself when they didn't know the extent to which the rocks affected his magic, and neither of them wanted to imagine what it might mean for Anders if Fenris were to be killed.

As the light faded, Fenris took Anders up to his room and showed him the changes he'd made.

He'd pulled a second bed in alongside his own.

"I won't let you sleep on the floor," he explained.

"But you don't want me to sleep with you either." Anders wasn't surprised, but his heart sank, missing already the comforting embrace of Fenris's arms.

Perhaps Fenris read that in his look.

"Tonight, perhaps," he conceded, "While you are still mostly yourself. But afterwards... I'm sorry. I think it would be better for both of us."

"Thank you," he said. He opened his mouth to apologise again, but it felt like he had made so many apologies today that they grew empty.

Something in Fenris's eyes seemed to say that he understood. "You deserve to feel safe." He started to move away, but then paused, and looked back. "What you're doing - not telling the surgeon - it's very brave. If you change your mind, I will support you, but I know what it means. You are... protecting everyone. It is... noble, I think. You are much stronger than I ever suspected, Anders. I apologise for ever suggesting that you were weak."

He turned away then to change for bed, but Anders' heart soared. Fenris admired him. Fenris thought he was brave. Part of him was glad simply to know that his master was pleased - that was unavoidable - but it was also something Anders had never expected to hear Fenris say, and he was genuinely touched by that, too.

 


	32. Chapter 32

When Anders awoke the next morning, Fenris was sound asleep, but facing him in the circle of his arms.

Absent his usual stern expression, and the worry that had characterised his face for the past week, he looked softer, younger.

 _How old are you?_ Anders wondered. Old enough to be a man, certainly; not old enough to justify the white of his hair. And yet the colour had never been ageing.

Stylish. The white made him look stylish. And Anders liked that Fenris took the time to care for his appearance.  That he knew how to present himself as both intimidating and attractive. He enjoyed a momentary fantasy of Fenris looking at him  from beneath that snow-white fringe and commanding him to undress....

... But as his cock began to stiffen in response he took in a deep breath and set the image aside. Fenris had had enough of awakening to find him in that _state_.

Without thinking, Anders reached over to brush the hair back from Fenris's brow, his hand settling against Fenris's neck.

Fenris stirred, dark eyelashes fluttering before his eyes openned wide.

"Good morning," Anders said.

"Morning," Fenris replied, his expression still vague from sleep.

 _You look beautiful today,_ Anders thought, as the elf groaned and rolled onto his back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He longed to roll after him and start the day with a long, languorous good-morning kiss, but resisted the temptation.

"'Time is it?" Fenris asked.

"I don't know," he said. "Not too late, I think."

Fenris nodded and pulled himself to a sitting position, the covers falling down to reveal his finely sculpted torso.

Anders couldn't help but smile, and Fenris frowned in response.

"You look good in the morning," Anders said.

"That is the enchantment talking," Fenris replied. "I did not bathe yesterday and I have not brushed my hair yet."

Anders' smile broadened. "Even better."  He didn't want to annoy Fenris too much, but he was overcome with the urge to tease. "We could bathe together?"

"No," Fenris said firmly, his seriousness making Anders laugh.

"Oh, alright. Why don't you bathe and I'll get something together for breakfast?"

Fenris considered, then nodded. "Thank you. That would be welcome."

Anders dressed in his green shirt and the tight black trousers Fenris had bought for him. Reluctantly, he admitted that he would need to either wear some of his own clothes soon or buy some more just so that he could wash these. The shirts he could clean and rotate, but the trousers?

Well. He gave them a sniff and decided they would do for today.

Anders had arranged breakfast by the time Fenris had washed and emerged damp, but presentable. They ate quickly and headed out for the clinic as they had agreed the night before.

Anders wasn't sure what he had expected, but he sensed a stir as he walked through Darktown. He caught a young boy's eyes peeking through a wall made of junk and then saw the boy dash away.

How many people had been waiting for the healer to return? How many had sickened while he'd been fawning over Fenris? How many had died?

Inside, the clinic was blessedly untouched. Everything exactly where he had left it. Such a relief after waking up a week ago to find all trace of his life here in Kirkwall and the sanctuary he had created gone.

He checked on his supplies. They were not in bad shape, but he felt a pang for the herbs he had been going to buy when he went to the Black Emporium.

"I'll write you a list," he said to Fenris.

"What?"

"The herbs I need. We talked about this last night. There was a sickness here in Darktown when I left and I needed herbs. Some illness can be cured with magic, but there's only one of me. If I can make a potion and give it out I have a better chance of stopping it from spreading faster than I can cure it. Please."

Fenris looked worried. "I don't want to leave you alone."

"I'll be fine," he said, scribbling with a pencil on a scrap of paper. "No one here knows what the rocks are and Templars rarely come down here anyway. For today, at least, things could be almost normal, but I need these herbs."

Fenris cleared his throat, seemed about to say something else, then shook his head. "If you're sure."

Anders smiled and nodded. "I am." He didn't like to admit it, but a part of him was looking forward to the normality of being alone with nothing but his clinic and his patients, for all that another part of his mind was clamouring to stop Fenris from leaving him. All the more reason to take this time alone before the enchantment made being apart from Fenris distressing again.

 

***

 

Fenris left Anders' clinic, not at all sure that it was the right thing to do, but wanting to give Anders the space he could while he could.

He looked down dubiously at the list Anders had given him. He recognised the word 'elfroot', but not much else. Anders had clearly forgotten that he couldn't read, but he hadn't wanted to disrupt the confidence and calmness that had fallen over Anders on entering the clinic by pointing it out.

There was also the fact that Fenris had spent nearly all his money - first on buying Anders, then on supporting them over the past week. He had some set aside at home, but if they were not going to take on any jobs until Anders was restored to his normal self, Fenris might need to be careful in order to make that money stretch.

He thought first about going to Varric for help, but then he remembered Hawke.

Something had happened between her and Anders last night. Something that had upset Anders even more than her ill-conceived idea to save him by telling the surgeon what was at stake. He should find out what that was, and if she needed to make amends, perhaps buying Anders what he needed would help.

 

***

 

It was mid-morning by the time he made it back to Hightown, and Fenris was relieved to find Hawke still at home, if looking rather harried.

"Anders isn't with you?" she asked, looking rather concerned.

"He's at the clinic," Fenris said. "He needed some things and I was hoping you could help."

"He... does he know you're here?" she asked.

"No," Fenris said, folding his arms. "He was rather upset with you last night. I was wondering if you could tell me why that might be."

She swallowed, then nodded, motioning for him to follow her into the library. "I said something stupid," she said, after closing the door. "I wanted to help, and I suggested just the wrong thing. Again."

"Which was?"

The red blotches of a flush marred her pale skin. "I... um. I didn't understand why he wanted to sleep with a prostitute to, uh, solve his problem. I suggested that perhaps he could sleep with me instead."

"Oh." Fenris remembered how Anders had reacted when he'd said suggested the same thing. He'd been angry, but not as upset as Anders had been last night.

"Yes," Hawke sighed. "Oh. I really just... hadn't thought it through. I don't want to... that is - it doesn't turn me on - the idea of having that kind of control. But I don't know if I managed to explain that - that I was just being _stupid_ , not malicious. And I think he's upset that I didn't understand straight away. I don't want to lose him - I don't want him to think that I want.. that."

Fenris felt the heat rising in his own cheeks. The last thing he wanted to do was to be interfering in Anders' relationship with Hawke. "I think he's calmer, this morning. Yesterday was... a very tiring day. And the last week has been very tiring overall. Look," he said. "He has given me a list of herbs he needs. I cannot read it, and I have spent most of my money. Perhaps if you got these for him and brought them to the clinic. You could apologise. He might be more likely to listen."

Hawke took the list from him and studied it. "I don't want it to seem like I'm trying to buy back his love," she said, quietly.

"I will explain to him that I needed assistance and you offered to help. I don't think he'll see it that way." Fenris wasn't sure he knew Anders well enough to be sure of that, but he didn't know what else to suggest. One way or another, he needed Hawke's help to buy Anders his herbs.

Hawke seemed to accept his line of thought. She nodded. "Thank you. I'll go straight to the market and bring these right across."

 

***

 

By the time Fenris returned to Anders' clinic the lantern was already lit and the room was crowded with people from Darktown seeking his help. One of Anders' assistants had joined him, but there were still clearly more people than he could handle on his own.

Anders caught his eye as he entered. "Do you have them?" he asked, hopefully.

Fenris shook his head. "I've run through my funds a bit this past week. Hawke will be bringing them."

Irritation flashed briefly over Anders' face, then was swiftly smothered. "Hawke? Fenris, I..." he sighed. "Alright, fine. Do you know your way around an injury kit?"

When Fenris nodded, Anders grabbed a bag from underneath a table and thrust it into his hands. "Lissa is doing triage for me. Get her to tell you who can be treated by mundane means and help as many of them as you can."

He nodded again, and Anders smiled. He squeezed Fenris's hand and then turned quickly away to help his next patient.

Fenris wondered just when he had become at ease with Anders touching him. He shrugged off most people's touches - they felt intrusive; they made his skin crawl - but the experiences of the past week seemed to have worn down a lot of his barriers towards physical intimacy. He still had no interest in using Anders the way the enchantment he was under made Anders desire, but the little familiar touches and gestures that Anders made almost without thinking no longer bothered him the way they once would have.

But there was no time to think about that further. He caught the eye of the woman Anders had called 'Lissa' and held up the bag Anders had given him. She nodded and waved to a dwarf who was cradling his arm, Fenris met the man in the middle and set about tending to his wound. Soon enough his entire attention was taken up helping the steady flow of Darktown residents making their way into Anders' clinic.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders gets stuck into healing the citizens of Darktown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap between postings. Life is... lifening. But also I knew I was going to have to figure out some stuff about magic and relationships for this chapter and I Did Not Wanna. Fortunately, when I finally sat down to it, Hawke took charge and things went in a direction I hadn't thought of before.

The disease had spread through Darktown in Anders' absence, and the influx of people who had made their way to Anders' clinic after he lit the lamp was overwhelming. Not just the sick, but everyone who had injured themselves in a more usual fashion whilst he was away. He was very glad of Fenris and Lissa's help taking the lesser injuries away from his attention while he focused on those who were sickening.

There were not enough beds. The clinic was crowded with the sick, waiting as patiently as they could for his attention, but where he could usually free cots as swiftly as he could heal, he now struggled with the fact that the illness was resisting his magic.

Or... not resisting. It was not a magical ailment, just an unfamiliar one.

Simple injuries could be easily healed with little knowledge of anatomy. Bodies wanted to heal, and a basic healing spell simply encouraged natural processes and gave the body the energy it needed to fix itself. Most creation mages could manage a simple healing spell, mending cuts and bruises and sprains.

But the magic of a spirit healer was something more. Broken bones, concussions, more complex injuries to organs required a knowledge of how a body _should_ be so that the healing process did not knit together what had been sundered wrong, and often required drawing energy from fade spirits in addition to the mages own connection to the fade.

Anders had worried that whatever the rock did that cut him off from Justice would also interfere with that connection, but thankfully it seemed not. It felt more as though there were a part of _himself_ that was walled off. Before he had opened the clinic he had tried a few offensive spells and found them limited. He had been able to chill a cup of water and then warm it again, but virtually anything else in the elemental tree of magic had seemed beyond him. No fireballs or cones of ice. Nothing aggressive. Perhaps the rocks were inscribed with runes that controlled him and his intentions rather than his connection to the Fade. Did they work against Justice as an aggressive part of himself?

Anders didn't like to think of his friend in such a way. It jarred with his memories of the calm and rational spirit who fought only for what was right and not out of anger. But it did make a certain kind of sense, and his more passive connection to beneficial spirits of the Fade did not seem to be affected. He had healed a broken leg and a belly wound with spirit magic and felt no resistance at all.

But illness was a more subtle challenge than injury. A simple cold could be healed by a creation spell that encouraged the body to speed up its natural defences. But not all diseases were something a body could fight off by itself. With greater knowledge of the body and the kinds of illness, a trained healer could have better luck, but sometimes disease required more. The direction of a spirit of wisdom could help, but was very difficult to obtain. Sometimes even spirit healers were forced to rely on a knowledge of herbs and their potencies in order to fight disease.

In the absence of the healing herbs he had hoped Fenris would buy, Anders drew hard on his connection to the Fade. Attracting a spirit of wisdom required a level of concentration and an aura of calm that was difficult to attain - especially with the constant background tug of the enchantment that said that his energies should be directed elsewhere - towards pleasing Fenris.

Anders was relieved to find that he was able to cure the disease, but each attempt left him feeling depleted and drained.

 _I should have asked Fenris for more lyrium potions, too_ , he found himself reflecting. But there was nothing he could do about that now. He had to press on. There were so many people who needed his help, and he had left them alone for too long.

When Hawke finally arrived with the herbs he had requested, Anders was deep in a healing trance. He staggered when he emerged and felt someone catch his elbow, allowing himself to be guided to a chair before he was fully aware of his surroundings.

"How could you let him go on so long?" someone was shouting. "Couldn't you see what it was doing to him?"

"I - he asked me to help with the others." Fenris's voice. Rich and warm and comforting.

"Wasn't anyone helping _him_?"

"There was such a press of people, messere," that voice was Lissa. "We was helping the healer by dealing with the ones we could."

Someone made a noise of frustration, and then Anders felt hands on his face.

"Anders, open your eyes. Look at me." Hawke, that was Hawke.

It was a relief to know she was there. It felt like they had been parted for a very long time. He opened his eyes and smiled when he saw her face.

"Hawke," he said. "I missed you."

An expression he couldn't read passed over her face. She looked away to someone to his left. "Get him a lyrium potion," she said. "And clear these people out - anyone who can walk. Put the lantern out. He needs to rest."

He frowned. "No, Hawke, I'll be fine in a minute. They need help. It feels good to help."

She squeezed his hand. "I imagine it does. But you can't help them by destroying yourself."

The sounds of the room gradually quieted as Anders became more aware of his surroundings again.

The beds were still full, but only a handful of people hovered around them - perhaps family and friends of the sick. Lissa was moving between the beds with water. Hawke sat in front of him, a bag at her feet and a lyrium potion in her hands. He looked at it.

"You want this?" she asked, raising it. His eyes followed it. "Then I need you to tell me something. Are you still mad at me?"

He frowned. What kind of thing was that to ask? Couldn't she just give him the potion?

"Are you?" she asked, frowning now. "Can you remember why you were mad?"

What was she talking about? Why would he be mad with her? It felt like he hadn't seen her in an age...

Then something clicked. He'd seen her only yesterday. And he had been mad at her. Hurt. He'd been hurt.

"I remember," he said.

She nodded, and something in her posture relaxed. "Good," she said, holding the potion out to him. "You gave us a scare. I didn't want to give you this until you were yourself again."

He took the flask. It made sense, he supposed. A sudden influx of mana for a mage who wasn't in control of himself probably wasn't a good idea, even if it seemed as though he couldn't harm anyone with magic at the moment anyway.

"I was more hurt than mad," he said, between sips.

She looked down. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's not an excuse, but I want you to know that I was being thoughtless, not malicious. I don't want... what you thought I wanted."

"I know," Anders said, quietly. "It's just... it's been a long week."

Hawke smiled sadly. "Killing yourself through healing is not the answer."

"They're sick," he said, looking around at the full beds - the people he should be helping. "They don't have anyone else."

"They won't have you if you keep this up."

She was right. Of course she was right, but... "It felt good to be helping people again," he admitted. "It felt normal."

She looked upward, towards the ceiling of the clinic, and the light caught a shine in her eyes that made him realise she was holding back tears. "I can see how it would," she said, and brushed the tears away with a quick wipe. "And I want that for you - I do. You should be able to do normal things and - and feel normal. But I don't want to lose you again. Even if you're mad at me. I need you to take care of yourself, OK?"

It was still hard to think clearly through the exhaustion, but he nodded. "OK."

Hawke sighed out a deep shaky breath. She looked relieved.

Anders glanced about. "Where's Fenris?"

"I'm here."

The voice came from behind, and when Anders turned to look, he saw the elf sitting on the edge on his table, his shoulders hunched in on himself.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have kept an eye on you. I... did not realise that could happen. I have only seen you heal in battle. There... there aren't many healers in Tevinter. I thought..." But he shook his head and didn't finish the sentence.

"I'm fine," he said. "Really. I'll be fine in a few minutes."

"No," Hawke said. "You won't. I don't want you to use anymore magic for at least an hour."

"Hawke!" he protested.

"I mean it!" she said. "I may not be a mage, but I come from a family of them and... and I know _you_. You need to rest. Look," she said, opening the bag at her feet. "I brought you the herbs you wanted. Fenris said you wanted to make a potion so you didn't have to heal everyone yourself. I think that's a marvellous idea. Why not focus on that instead for a bit. Please?"

Anders laughed. He supposed that was a fair comment. He knew he couldn't heal everyone in Darktown by himself. It had just been so appealing to give himself over to the healing and not think about anything else for a while. Let the spirit of wisdom do its work through him.

But that was a dangerous thing to do. He should have known better.

"You're right," he said, sighing. "OK, you're right." He started to get up. "Help me clear a space on the table and I'll get to work."

"No," Hawke said, firmly. "You're going to sit right there. I'm going to make you some tea. And then you're going to tell us what you need while we get things ready for you. I mean it. A full hour of rest. And _then_ you can get back to saving Darktown, OK?"

He couldn't help but smile. It was just such a Hawke thing to do - taking charge in a way that was all about taking care of people.

"OK," Anders conceded. Perhaps it would be nice to let people do something for him for a while.


End file.
